(no subject)
I've got my stopwatch out, and I'm timing how long it takes before my rhyming gets to her... My money is on an hour, but she's just not one to be powerless for long, no matter what words or songs her ears are subjected to. Fears of perfection keep me here, less than the man that could make you who you've always wanted to be. Sixty divisions make me envision the prism that's you, and I'm just light, refracted.