Caught
The idea blooms, of a child accidentally being concieved in my room,
I zoom to the believed result mentaly.
Speaking medically a miscarage would be heavenly, so my imaturity could balloon
I think it poped so much bullshits on the floor being moped,
Am I speaking metiforically maybe not. theoretically life cant be stoped.
The arubix cube of differently viewed situations some how gives my actions limitations.
I ought to get a crib and letter bloxes this feeling i've continuously fought
Never have I flaunt, my girls guess because none were pearls,
but she's late for her dot. caught in the fishing net, took the bait.
My actions acumilate the ultimate debate. grown enough for the action,
but a fraction for what it makes. Does that make me fake?
If only I could earase for peace of mind atleast once in a lifetime,
lustful temptations cause my freewill to break.
Shake your head up and down if you can relate.......
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