Sometimes I wish we would have stayed strange
because every confession was an effort in vain
Yet i believed with an altruist's mind.
I witnesses the schemes
And it's just a lie
That an honest terderness in-between lust would always
differ us from being a cheap fuck
And it's all a lie that we could survive
when the the crimson pours out
but perfection all in-between
the glimpse of an eye and the lack of perfection
is enough room
for the painstaking perception that I feel
too much of the things that hurt
i am a hopeless altruist in this abhorrent mazed world.

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