I get roped in,
I get caught every time.
The smell of bait is always attracting like a word’s next rhyme.
And I can’t seem to get out of this trap I find myself in so often,
All I need is a glance, a smile, a touch, and I find myself in this coffin.
You see, I write about these things so routinely.
It takes up all my emotion,
And my thoughts are formed obscenely.
I am either running
From the things I dream at night
Or dwelling in my sleep
Until I can't stand my waking self.
My character seems to hang by a thread’s might,
And I now see it lacks in wealth.
