With growing tides of hot and cold

I can feel her reaching for help

She blows me over with her cries

And curses me for her decay

I heard Ishmael’s voice from a soundproof room

It crept through my skin and told me to move

He said success is a group effort rooted in reform

I told him I was hopeless

Hopeless, maybe, but not helpless

So I thought up some self-esteem and went in headfirst

And soon I had exposed my Taker to my inner Leaver

Boy, was she angry

I sat in between them until we reached a compromise

Taker would listen to Leaver

Leaver would teach Taker her ways

And I awoke with a clarity that can only be found in a dream