Appropriate Stimulation

B*****d -- I endure you.

We boiled over the feeling

When we were fevered,

Uncomfortable,

And crawled to sleep.

 

How many can you really not remember?

You mentioned me back into the room,

And we waited.

 

You said:

 

I believe you're right -- the views and beliefs of the lost sheep,

How the silver faction defected to the silver soil.

 

I simply stated I had been concerned.

 

But our situation is surging terror only.

We chase the fight, ridicule our bad feelings.

The hanging sign shouts to shout.

Your fighting is low; I don't pinch your mood.

 

The overall impression is misleading.

Not to mention the possibility of misunderstanding;

We are not like a diary.

So come in from the chatter of your friends and forgive me.

I fell in love with the silver soil a long time ago.

 

Sometimes you don't understand.

If you don’t understand the doorway, enter the halls,

Open the big field where people feel the same way,

Sometimes quietly,

And lovers are happy to discuss the soil

Where silver is not most people's king.

 

But I was not interested in feeling very strange.

 

Perhaps sometimes people only care about their favorite silently,

Like a blessing.

So why care so much?

Author's Note

The title is a placeholder until I think of something better.