with time we all heal.
It is a never proposition
of a where we might hide.
I believe the lies you tell your psychiatrist
reflect the quiet death of your opposition to the darkness you wish to believe was born with you.
In the mirror, you wish his face above your shoulder,
but he cannot be so cruel.
So long as you love him, he can have none of you,
and three thousand suns will burn out their lives
before you relinquish your love.