The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown
The lion beat the unicorn all around the town.
Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town.
Let the crowd believe what they will. If they ask I will tell them. But truly, I have a crown of my own, and their thoughts mean little to me. I ask the same question, over and over again. Why do I ask? For confirmations? Reassurance? Guidance? I ask to make this stabbing pain disappear in my gut. Everything about this feels wrong to me. Though it makes perfect logical sense. I ask in the hope than someone, anyone can make this go away. But they can't. So head or heart. Make or break. I am a creature of instincts, but logical by nature, and never have these two aspects collided quite so furiously.
The unicorn is a little lost...and with no one worthy of fighting.