I was so sure...

.
.
I thought she was a... I thought she was trying to be cute.  Read as rude.  I don't play well with (other)? psychopaths.  Especially my kind.


But... the music says it wasn't just... that.  It wasn't just her?  Even if it had been so, I realized... some points.



Then she played hard.

Truth is, however, the games of love and war... are what they are.  Attrition.

Some pops seem to fit for responses.  Shes are... often with me.  I with them.

Thankfully I have more than just that.

But, you might ask, why are you yet ill?  Only of flesh, a flesh that when well was made to destroy.  Until my task is upon me, again, illness of flesh allows a time of spiritual health.  It is the only way I can even hear Him, mostly.  He says things... have changed, if I have some fear otherwise.  When healthy... it is as if power blotto drives me to my purpose.  A thousand horsepower of drive to kill time and bring civil war, on a relative subcompact frame.  A son of the dragon, many, will awaken.  Some of us chief among those.

Thankful for the faith.  For in it hope, and charity, in and beyond the grave.  For her, other frienemies, enemies, even myself.  Yes, I... do... see.  Find your way, near or far.  The door is always open.  If the place is a mess.  Perhaps we could be charitable one to the other.