Uncoordinated, self-serving, instinctual needs are aspired to be grasped.
Almost immediate, delays impermissible.
ID is desired by the young.
Ego be fed with facts.
Iced and decorated with stability and consistency of the AMBIGUOUS.
Whether safe or unsafe, only time can tell.
Question remains, if he wanted her there,
Why didn’t he bring her there? Why didn’t he lead the way?
Instead, with guts exposed and bare,
The almost-metamorphosing creature was disposed.
Abandoned into the jungle of the unknown.
See, it isn’t long, not-so-lost unrequited love.
Love was never lost. It’s been discarded.
Bitter defeat of their so-called-love.
And a painfully sweet triumph of the ID.