The Pure

 

She feels sick

No wish to breathe

Apologist

With a hint of low self esteem

 

Hiding in Abbotabad

Squirming beneath

Yellow lights and cameras

 

He is gone now

Taken out loud

Where’s the beacon

All spirits are weakened

 

When they met

She was too young

But in time

The difference waned and they were one

 

On the run

Constantly

Hiding out

Caves in god-forbidden countries

 

When they met

She was too young