Sometimes the edges
Are where we feel most comfortable
The unvarnished corners of the room
Where its easy to hide
Easy to get used to pretence
Performance
Claiming to be at peace
When we’re really just tired of fighting
Like those drained out nights
When you pass out on the sofa
Knowing you should get up and go to bed
Yet the painful akwardness of
Being in the wrong place
Has somehow become
Comfortable.
Comfortable?
heartinscriber 