America My writing is from the heart. I spend little time planning my poems. A thought pops into my head and I give it freedom.
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You taste like poetry and alcohol another bad decision another day washed away with the bittersweet burn leave me feeling giddy all the pain forgotten for just a little while before it comes back worse than before
A chemical imbalance, says my textbooks. But how did it happen? Was it natural? Was it hereditary? Did someone break you so much, that your own mind couldn't stay together?