By Nelly, Nell@aikopc.com
Date: 12 September 1998

Anything

I run to him
And burn my little toes
Like melted wax 
It coats my feet

So I trip and fall
And break my legs
Such passion where it goes
What will stop my blood?

I don’t get happy from nothing
Aching for something
Anything
From him to me
From him to her,
Or her 
Or the other hoe

Run to him
Scars to prove the struggle
For him, for him
It melts 
Burns
And fades

No need to run to,
Just from
And as fast as wind
I slow it down

The was melts off
I cool

I don’t get happy from nothing
I get happy from something
Anything