Peter Pan stole my innocence,
and the hurricane claimed my name.

Exasperated replies conquered the dawn,
and a baking tin of foiled hate.

Forgetful days will come forth hence,
and sleepless nights will hold the blame.

As silent screams will whisper through cracks,
and driving motions continue straight.

To uncoil a watch too wound,
and overclock a piece.

Releasing the vine from being that was bound,
I think that would be nice.