and when I get the better of myself

i'll absorb in my own purdah

and i'll cry alone secreted

and the saddest part

you want to know the saddest (feeble) part

there is not even a sob sound or tear for this cry of me of mine

i'll swallow it down with a tinged lip in a raging stomach

leave

the stitches for the stomach lining

because let's face it

nothing is sewing my thought up

sow sow sow

said seeds will grow

sow sow sow

sore seeds will grow

and we (I) say this

and we (I) say that

and we say everything and anything

precision's taint said lost on my me

but the clarity of my heart is intact

hard fist to troubled temple then i'll breathe again

rub my bloodshot eyes in hope to

see a better day tomorrow