Tuesday, April 28, 2015

First world Excess
I'm calling you out

And be poet
And be wise and profound
And be rhythmic, romantic, professional and

I believe in freedom
The mother of Dragons can’t give you freedom,

I guess I’d fallen
I was falling
I was trapped 
I was climbing
I was stuck, I was stagnant.
I called her up to relieve my urge
And she called me out

I courted you, to live with me, until i die

We compromised at less children than our parents had had

She called me out to play a game