Like the moon, you are changeable;
ever waxing and waning;
as fancy takes it
You whirling wheel, you are malevolent.
Shadowed and veiled.
You plague me too
catch me if i fall i'm losing hold i can't just carry on this way and every time i turn away lose another blind game the idea of perfection holds me... suddenly i see you change everything at once the same but the mountain never moves...