Defense

There comes a point of time where no words nor repentance of any gets you back to what you used to be. You stand under the sky with a cup of hot steaming tea, the night feels like as if it's devouring you and you wonder if you'd be as sweet as ever, if you could even try. But is it of worth at all, will you then finally be appraised? What is trying when all is like clockwork.

You are still of importance no matter how insignificantly I try to appear to you as, and this acts as a gruelling thought that knowing if you were to ever be in any state of suffering, I will never fail to give you a hand. This is not to say that I am noble because damn you I have never ever wanted recognition.

I am without any armour, I am a sitting duck. Does that satisfy you?