Prognosis

the analysis was bleak love her then leave sitting on the edge of a very fine line between heartache and ridicule thrown around for kicks and giggles pressed out in front of a cold hearted fool, spouting what could only be delusion, wrapped in illusions, deflated at best let's not bend toward that proud peacock of nasty intentions gleaming all garbled misunderstood stride, never turns out well throw out the pom-poms along with the double-speak don't you know I can see straight through you I felt her from here lose the sorry excuses and be, if you dare the man I thought I once knew and believed in on a wind swept night in a place once called paradise, she walked with her head in the rain faced the tears, though they blinded the worst kind, the kind that strips away years...