Are You In Control?
Are You In Control?
On Mondays, she's nervous, a reserved construct.
On Tuesdays, she's genial, an amiable help.
On Wednesdays, she behaves like a child, a bit cray-cray.
On Thursdays, she is confused, she asks who she is?
On Fridays, she's he, he's who? A familiar stranger in the room.
On Saturdays, he's dead, can't find him in the carapace, a relinquished contract.
On Sundays, an identity is absent, an empty shell waits, and waits, waiting to be capitalized on.
On Mondays, she's nervous, a reserved construct.
