Fragile
You and I are a bomb
Waiting to implode
Not sure who has the detonator
But were a catastrophe in the making
In our story whose the narrorator
When were both fighting over the wheel
Two alphas turn into an omega
I want an ear to turn to and a hand to hold
Your touch is colder than ice
And your suggestions are more like ridicule
Leaving me stranded in this cold existence
This poem is about:
Our world