Swords of cryptic emo

Still feels like the Nine, the nightmare. It's not the Ten, which I suppose is a good thing, but the Ten would at least represent an end. This isn't the end, because it's still not okay. We're still not okay. So it continues. And maybe the Ten won't be where we end up.

Maybe.

And now your monday moment of bad poetry

Woman! woman!
Whoooa-man!
She was a thief
you gotta believe
she stole my heart and my cat

Betty, Judy,
Josie and those hot Pussycats
they make me horny
Saturday morny
girls of cartoo-ins
will leave me in ruins
I want to to be Betty's Barney.

Hey Jane
get me off this crazy thing
called love....