Poltergeist Passions

Sleeplessly lingering, at the end of the night. Always too tired,

yet still start fights. Transcend sins of our anger grow. Like the flight

of poltergeists, for objects to throw. Untamed passions, we both act

like we know. Getting nowhere, the seeds start to sow. Oh,

words like icicles, impaling our souls. Both too stubborn, to admit what we know.

One says leave, fine I'll go. Like the flight of poltergeists, for objects to

throw. Untamed passions, both act like we know. Getting nowhere,

the seeds start to sow. Realizations are made,