Perhaps ignorant, perhaps I was better off shutting up
No longer grieving, no longer bitter
I made the mistake of telling her
I escape this life by things unreal
My guise as human is to not feel
In fact, in real life I am a house fly
She replied by offering me cyanide
Soon she had swatted all of the nearby swarm
And peeled their wings and declared it an artform
She purses her lips and raises a finger
I understand and so now I just linger
Far away from her hand there is safety
But near her, my hold upon sanity is shaky
