What a terrible thing, for the truth of the heavens to echo, and you simply don’t want to associate with it, like Taylor Swift, you don’t want to be a part of the narrative, you cringe and you yearn, and ask why couldn’t it have been something else, chains binding your feet, you wonder why you can’t move towards the things you seek, bound by law and entangled by string, please let me look cool and kiss this girl on the lips, but you stutter and your body jerks, moving across a line may always be uncomfortable, as you stand there, waiting to order a French vanilla, to consume it, you may have to fight each dude at Tim Horton’s, I don’t make the rules or arrange the heavens, these are the rules they laid out for those who are not innocent, staring with a yearning soul at the girl at the bus stop, how many times are we going to wait there without saying anything, in another life we could be lovers, but alas, I’m just not good enough…

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