by Kronin O Wanderforth
I feel her eyes on the small of my back
The windows open, making my dreaming
Though sometimes I make a mockery of our time together
By refering to myself
In the third person when speaking to myself or others.
Did you think there would be a glass
Did you think I wouldn't see through you
Anyway there are eyes on the small of my back
And I'm afraid to see the hurt I paid you
For my time

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