Unfasten every safely tight insecurity and crash into a wall of failure, to disguise that you're really not happy.  Delusional glass shattered into ****** open skin a flooded mess of blood and confessional drama queens sin.  Prepared daily to support our difficult decisions with karma tasted burdens.  You're magazine religion makes me sick with all your false information.  

And the papers say you committed ****** once again, addressing that you're accident from behind the fire.  Let someone else take the blame of a narcisstic evocation, so you can continue this game.  While they're all in the hospital defining they're face like yours all the same.  So touch up that skin another ride is going to begin.