He waits right by the bus shelter, while I hide myself from any known reach – see, my anxiety plays ferocious games soon as Christmas tends to arriving
Turning everything to a God awful whirlwind of fierce and unfathomable pain, something someone will never in their wildest dreams ask to realise
I won’t dare wish it upon my sworn enemy if only I had any, for exclusion from a poisoned-off world causes all variety of people to go away and to soon disappear
It becomes rather clear to me that he has been crying for me because his tissue is soaked – I get to knowing from my usual safe in a manner distance, yet I wish it could have been oh so very magnificently different, always have done of a dire day