Past Worn Searching

oh sweetheart and my constant apologies. i really fucked up. oh lover, my hands are tied, depending on your good graces. coercion practiced if you twist my arm. if you force my open hand, i can make myself again. i can dye your hair cherry red, move

and so, gradually, i'm trying do you know how hard? to integrate the past with now. i don't believe in fate. there's no forgiveness, there must be something more. i'm convinced, regardless of all the times they said that i should forget everything. n