The head on my shoulder is obviously mine,
It’s facing some problems, because nothing is fine.

Hounded by work and inhibitions alike.
Pushing me into a hole. Provoking me to strike.

But then her head on my shoulder. Deeply exhales.
Puffs down the boulders. And, peace prevails.

She wraps her arms around and holds on tight,
She makes no sound, and the day turns out all right.

How long will I survive with my head? I really know not.
But, with her head, I believe in me again.
I believe in life, a lot!