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Jan 2015
Topsy turvy,

To the bottom
We go.

In ruins,
We cherish,
In tears,
We rush,
In murders,
We trust.

Bitten once,
Stabbed twice,
Crying still,
You call me thrice.

Curse the horrifying heavens
That braise us and raise us
For we have sinned
And truly need help.

Wisdom says that your thoughts shall grow,
But who said wisdom is the one to trust?
Don't listen to nonsense,
Failure is the best remedy, child.

Restricted claustrophobic sociopaths,
Beckoning upon the naΓ―ve,
But with arrival,
Flourishes of blooming impending death.
I don't have a f!cking idea what I just wrote. Like honestly. It was going somewhere but I guess it lost its way? Thus concludes the poem written with lack of sanity and sleep. The end. ;) (btw its suppose tobhave a steady beat/rhythm to it... it started with one at least but then I got tired and lazy and more insane so yea)

*sigh* I don't even know anymore. School stress, home stress, stress for you, stress for me, stress for all of us! Stress for everyone! YAY!
XD sorry I'm going insane. Unfollow if you'd like. You're following a deranged insane creep who's too deprived of everything good. :)

What would a horse grape be? ;)

By the lonely island ft. Pharell williams
Written by
Creep  F
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