Some days I am so convinced that I hate him that I can feel hell in my blood But it's the days of weakness Those rain filled, grey-scale days that have me writing with the residual stardust left in the corners of my eyes left from when I was star struck myself. I think to myself, "if I can just get these words out, maybe I'll finally be free." But the words never end they are the never-ending flowing music of the spheres and I begin to understand what "all truth is song but not all that is sung is truth" really means They sung that boy's praises and I joined in until I learnt what a lie was It's in that moment I wondered if I perhaps understood how Lucifer felt as he led worship
creative writing class// holla we switch between love and hate like whiplash. Ah, the love we find in college