I know you worry, baby girl,
About the autopilot state
That homing beacon that overrides all
And brings you safely to
The arms of the ones you love
That claim to love you;
You fear to become too dependent
On machine, on organ, on emotion, on others.
But that’s the problem, babe,
With being the “anywhere but here” girl
It becomes far too easy, after awhile
To walk away
To burn it all to the ground
To move on.
There’s something to be said
For the rabid dog that bites in,
Relentless
Without cause or calvary
At his back,
Who digs heels in
And never surrenders
Strongly wrong
With fervour and vigour
And no common sense.
It’s more empathetic to fight
Than to trot away,
More human to care
Than to prematurely forfeit.
There’s something to be said, my dear,
About fight vs. flight…
You see,
The rabid dog just might
One day
Get what he wants…
Will you?
