Give me nothing,
My desire for information exceeds the weight of your realities to offer,
Under that scarlet hair, please hide…away,
I am unsure of my open hands,
They may crush and collapse the parts of you you give me,
I am statically linked the paramount of my sadism, yet I cannot bare to see you hurt.
I will demonstrate inaction,
Grant not a working notion fruition through working hands,
I will stand, and wait,
Until you house your confidence in my security, and permit my heart to empathize,
Oh Ms. Mystery, I ask for nothing but a chance to merge with your sorrows,
And cut through that thick cloud of shear discomfort you are choking in,
Know!, I hear you gasping for air,
Under that scarlet hair.