' conflicted
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Sheltered with only a few windows
Those in which are covered with plastic
Nothing comes in, nothing goes out
Except for those bright rays of sunshine in which you sit to feel warm
It's a struggle
My body squirms every time my thumb hits the blue arrow
Reveal too much and I become a slave, she's the Jew's Pharoah
Conceal too much, she may turn away,
This is my conflict, my new peril.
Dear, you( I mean me),
Do you know the synonyms for consistency,
Do you feel the warmth of tradition or smell home coupled with the thought of peace,
She is happy, she is sad.
She is excited, she is afraid.
She is confident, she is scared.
She is loved, she is alone.
