Trust me that your tacent tongue tells the tales

Of the despair

you wish I would wear.

You fabulist,

your false

fables

fail.

You kinchin

I kermerade,

“I care”

This candescent case of canter you create

There’s no

sanative,

we have to

sejugate

You matted the map we had made and

will miss

“Thank you for showing me what life really is”