Haven’t written, I’ve lacked inspiration.
So much red pen & forced erasing.
We never out grow bad grades. We never outgrow mistakes.
& only thieves are happy because happiness is something you have to take.
Usually planted alone because photos, sins, and this don’t help me grow.
No one’s perfect, yet I’m obsessed with being close.
& what ever that space is will keep people close to me.
Long after I’m gone they’ll still choose me because of who I chose to be.