Forgive me if i get this wrong
But this is where this should belong:
A street, white, unblemished and clean,
A house ‘untampered’ and serene
A shelf, book to book, and ‘uncrinkled’ all along.
The heist we choose to remember
A secret we don’t dismember
The loud words we push back inside
From whose glare we’re tempted to hide
And we blame the sad song one the old band member…
But correct me if you’d agree
This habit you expect of me
I do not do the same of you
We can tame the aggression too
And take this fight to where disregard seems to be.