12°

it's mixed messages i receive on my screen,
you create pandamonium in my mind.
but i'm in a place where my heart's at peace
and i thank God for that

i don't let down barriers;
self-reliance is a perfect quality.
i can't have you destroying that
because inside i'm cold as chilled porcelain tiles.
i'm comfortable at 12°.

i built a hundred gates
and posted ten thousand guards
but somehow you broke through
for the sole reason of proving you could.
now my city lies crumbled
as you stare from a hilltop far away.

erase my mind.
because i prefer a blank page
to a torn one anyday.

12°C of course

lemon, lime, acid chyme

and they're being such tools for you
instruments that you can pluck and rate
but be cautious which chord you strum
because i swear, if you break his string
your neck will be in a similar state.


why yes, i am vicious sometimes. only poetically though.