I was her blue eyed whore, her smack &

Bestest friend of all

/

She was my tart, home made from berries

Blue with warts

/

We were odd at best, peculiar no doubt

Kept up appearances and the lies for all

/

They never understood the reasons why,

Why the otherness and other world meant

More to us than dollars

/

Others might say we did alright,

Considering age and lack of milage

/

We were old souls in young bodies,

Pursuing purpose and meaningful hours,

Failing to grasp the path we followed

Only led to the bottomless pit of

Sorrows