Our cunning menagerie came with its own fruition of both good... and you-like. Your insecurity was almost too sacrilegious that a banter coerced to transgress into an ugly truth. The paranoia that you succumbed to made us this way. You avered the root of all knottiness to be change. My illicit meandering of emotions and your unjustified accusations put us in a lieu complexly impractical. Lethargy invaded your will and I became the successor. If, in your bottomless pit of a heart, you adjudicate our relationship as anything worthwhile...
I won't be waiting.
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