face to face,
with my future.
examining me,
judging me.

staring straight into the demonic soul i carry.
seems to be destiny sees me,
the realist of me.
there's no beauty in this heart

life has tortured and tormented.
bandaged and bruised
yet still not broken
and still beating.

The more she smiled
The more he noticed

The more she looked
The more he saw

The more she fell into liking
The more he fell in love

For she was perfect
Within his eyes alone

For this time is awful to raise a son,
They're stuck in this confusion,
The ladies are stunned,
Yet men are shunned,
To seek beneath the sheets.

"Times are different son,"
But our life only comes from one,
The Woman.