Why is it I choose to read And written things, can they read too? The readers, they must have another reading audience themselves Circulating on the shelves Put on hold Will her prophecy unfold like she told me? May be 2 years of Saturn in the 5th Enough, enough! I'm sick of it Waiting and waning Prematurely celebrating only for delay The morning comes, but it won't stay Stuck at standby, permanently So, when I love, I'm ever gentle And extreme And dense I'm no attack And all defense A love once came and then it went And now the waiting's permanent