My head is twirling in its rampageous state,
Trampling all the thoughts I want to hold to,
Making the burn of lonely feeling rise,
Forcing the droplets to seep from my brown eyes,
That salty sting remains on the lash,
As a reminder of the truth,
There’s no escape,
From the hunting and haunting, like a ****,
Crushing the grape, the seed so pure,
And making the rampage run forever,
Like the gravy rolling on a plate.