| New Season |
| It's like abusive therapy From the book of tough love. It's twisted methods Fitting me like a shrunken glove. This torrential torment Thrashes through every life. So why when it tickled my pale-white skin Did it cut deeper than the sharpest knife? Have I already learned, Or will tomorrow be today? It's like your dreams' worst fright Asking if you can come out and play. There is no rhyme, No possible reason. It's just life Changing its season. ~CM |
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