Attempting to move forward,
or at all.
Paralyzed by fear of the known,
functioning only for a single purpose...
doodling upturned lips, and bright eyes,
for my own amusement.
I forgot my pen on my desk,
but I'm carrying my sword.

If I was out of control,
you'd give me shock therapy
and I'd enjoy every second of it.
724.04 volts of electricity,
can't scratch the surface
of what makes my hair stand on end.
I realize, nobody is perfect...
but I can't stop thinking about yours.