She has nothing to say during the day time.
Saving it for night time’s shade.
Knowing next time, she’ll sow these seeds into the desperate nightmares that will become your dreams.
Cowards in the cul de sacs of tax payer paved streets.
I wilt tread over these as much as I please. Let your puppy bark, your motion sensor lights trip. I am a stroller not a prowler.
And, as much as I am uninvited, you are not entitled.
You are a dead end at which I make my u-turn.