You think I don't know what's
going on?
I know you: you're scheming.
You're working out how long you'll have to stay
with me.
You're figuring out how to let me go.
I know.Do you think you
can hide inside your mind?
You don't trust
me.
You don't trust anyone.
You think this
won't last.
You're going to try your darndest to
give me reason to leave.
But I won't.
I can hear your thoughts too
clearly,
(but something tells me they're mine).
Something whispers of devils, and fatalistism,
and consciousness,
and something tells me to let go.