December First is supposed to be Perfect.

That, would indeed, be true.
The above and the likelihood.
Do I feel like a female profit; (not the genius part, the money sector)
well, actually, no.
Even though I feel even dirtier than cash.
Not in a good way.
Not in a good scream.
Only in one of pain.
Not the good type of pain, either.

Why, yes, I am drowning in confusion.

Even though I have no right to be, or, for that fact,
have no reason to be.

Will I motion change in exchange for the fresh bleeding...
well now.
It seems that we will just have to see.