Shameful to feed your kids breastmilk in public, but yet we will feed them bullets in their public schools.

Ive been dealt this switchblade been shown where to put it up to my neck to draw the most blood. You taught me how to make it all painful. And as hard as I try to, I cant forget how.

If loose lips sink ships then your mouth must be a graveyard.

I dont know if I believe in a God. I just need something to believe in. Because you left and took with you everything I thought I knew.

Art isnt suppose to be perfect. Art is the broken concrete on the sidewalk. The one you trip on and and become bloodied and bruised. Its the decaying flower you have to pull up from the roots before it infects the growth around it. Its the crack of your voice when defending everything you believe. Its preventing the perfection in everything else you cherish from becoming damaged.

As you leave, please remember who eased the pain for you to let go.

And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.