celFee.

God as my witness, I witness my wits end again,

Wisdom is dead at the hands of coincidence -

Slowly becoming a trend,

Serial innocence -

Everybody is a friend,

Until that buddy turns to putty;

Molded gently by the remnants of the wind,

Where all of my friends get to live,

Hope all of us ends to a mean to hit every dream for the fence,

& learn how to settle for what's in between,

Even though it's not a gleeful event,

Celebrate like it's of luck to be free,

What's the occasion to luxury me?

Roses that lead to the, "love-to-be" suite,

How could I say that it sucks to be me?

Even if love is a rush in my sleep

& I don't wake up to a brush on the cheek,

I pinch myself out of husband-to-be,

& love myself where the sun doesn't see,

Run with the breeze.