by Arcassin Burnham
flying high,
you know how I feel,
the feeling mutual,
landing in a pink grass,
my life is movie that never got to play in theaters,
learning mistakes,
reading unopened letters,
it's all the same to me,
outcast that I was,
no matter if I choose the wrong way or
right way,
it was always be the same feature film
that won't make it out,
so while me feelings are screaming,
I advise you to listen,
cause you could slice your hand open,
by knives in the kitchen.
Live.