when i leaned in on my mother's shoulder in the backseat of a
stranger's car last saturday night
i realized that i am not capable of love.
all endured in faith, all tonight exhaled in a sigh
here is not where i belong,
nor the hills, the beach, in my compassion, my concern,
my company.
it's the hard truth.
i write for my own amusement, i've lied for three long years for
the same reason.
