Gord

2014-06-11 12:00 am

I dander,
To her I cling tightly,
In her I find me.
In me she finds her;
So clothesline or a ligature,
Is just a state of mind being.
At least, that's what I'm seeing;

So I pander,
I find the back end of a hand,
Which leaves me more filled with anger.
Yet everyday I manage.

Until I found out the sun is dangled,
So perhaps too, the moon is dangled,
Leaving me in anger.
My love in the clutches of another,
My whole life fandangled;