Two Plates To Much
To want with a passion, my desire I'm craving.
In and out of love as much as I’m in and out of life.
From one to the next and back again, happiness is my strife.
I try to put it together try to make it rhyme, but there’s too much
in-between, I run out of lines.
Simple things confuse me, when the complex seems so simple.
It’s like nothings meant to go together, but I just pound it till it fits.
I’m to bruises to move, to sore to make it all fit.
giving ups never an answer, even if all I’