The sesquipedalian suffragette sits
and thinks of anarchy
Emmanuel, biblical, pensieval lives
on the shores of a mock sea
She hopes and she prays that he opines of her
and I do the same for me

The walls of the school are frightfully cold
its inhabitants, even colder
And every time I sense my heart break
I feel a little older
Like love locked away inside of a chest once burning, left only to smoulder

On the seat in the very last bathroom stall,
A nebbish prays to God
To give her strength to fight the man
Whose agents feel her rod
To fight the fight she once bitterly fought
with nail and tooth and claw

Emmanuel sits in ignorance
of the love directed at him
Ignorant that he could build her or break her
make her on a whim
I know now that he loves me not
and I will never win