A competition called Life – one girl, two boys
That deliciously unfriendly divide
Destroyed right down the middle
Of gargantuan happenstance aside romantically inclined inclination
People, places, tantamount to Tryhard things – these ever-regrettable nights of wine-drinking reasoning and wrought-iron resilience
That shall rampantly meander and take themselves to dutiful task ((again))
She had to dangerously ask, though, didn’t she..
Yet, was one person better than no other.
Or were they both tied to the sight of the sky-high cross ever before events even started to unfold in the first place purely improper?
Begging typically to have their confidence crippled since the jaded, tried-and-tested beginning…
Enjoyably shaping the size of their sinning nature
So as to win outright vilified
Asking: “what do you want from me?”