I need all of the flashbacks.
The air is nearly similar.
In all honesty, I don't know anything.
There is a mirror to my left.
Sylvia Plath, I think of you.
Here is my black shoe.

Chicks that flirt
Make sad boys hurt!

One who sees through the fog clearly

One of those smash your head in glass days
I just don't wanna bleed I'm scared of blood

i’m broken
the way every writer is
broken and the words fall
out of the cracks.

lapping waves
the kiss of the water
the fire of the sun.

I slip up
Wen it comes to boye . he make me slip, falle trip
Oh boye