"cameron" poems
I've just joined the Liberal Democrats,
My mates reckon they're all a bunch of *****
But I say "what do you know?",
"I've read their entire manifesto".
Well that was a lie,
If ever I've told one,
In truth I know maybe 5,
Policies of theirs and then I'm done.
But what's the point in all of this,
Cameron says "hug a hoodie",
What could be next?,
Give a burglar a kiss?
Oh well it's all a guessing game,
At the end of the day,
No politician has a sense of shame,
And no shortage of cash on their payday.
When I turn 18,
What do I do?,
Vote for the colour I like best,
Or speak the truth?
Debates and elections,
Aren't really democratic,
Cause no ministers have the courage,
To make their policies stick.
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
This contains swearwords!!!!
Do you know what it’s like to be on the dole?
The giro, the social, the rock and roll,
Well I’m tellin you now, that it’s no laff,
No heat or food, round at my gaff,
I can’t pay the bills on fifty three quid,
This is how I live; I’m tellin ye kid,
No Lecky, or water, or comfy bed,
Nowhere to lay my educated head,
You’s think I’m brewsted on state benefit,
Well I’m tellin ye now, life is ****
No jobs are goin in my town,
This whole ****** country is goin down,
I look every day for a job to do,
Over qualified under qualified, scew you,
I’d brush your path, deliver your dinner,
My options for work get thinner and thinner,
But we get the blame for the country’s debt,
And seen in your eyes as a useless get,
We are not scroungers and living like kings,
We can’t afford the simple things,
We can’t take our kids to Blackpool pier,
Or to the fair, it’s just too dear,
It’s not our fault the system let us down,
Schooling was crap, but I got a cap and gown,
So don’t look at me, like I’m ****
I’ve bettered meself to get out of this pit,
I’m clever and proud and I stand tall,
I make something out of nothing, coz I’ve got **** all,
You won’t tread us down, yeah that’s right,
We got fire in our bellies and where ready to fight,
We’re not greedy for a fancy lifestyle.
The simple things make us smile,
So quit avin a go, at our worlds apart,
I’m scouse and proud, with a lions heart,
So live well in your mansion, apartment, or detached,
Coz were the generation that Maggie hatched,
Yeah that’s right were Maggie’s crew,
The under privileged, not like you,
Time to step up the Cameron’s and Clegg’s,
Coz you’ve sat long enough on Thatcher’s eggs.
Tina Ford
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Send the immigrants back; unfortunately the referendum was based on that.
Misplaced Hate,
Created by power,
Forcing a debate of the darkest hour.
Hate towards immigration, but wait!
What if you need an operation?
The health service is crumbling, needs multiculturalism to keep the cogs turning.
So you want a debate on immigration?
Let’s talk about your integration.
What’s your heritage?
Where is your blood line from?
I doubt it will be a solely British one!
Our kids walk the streets with knives and guns, yet our politicians talk with plums.
Claim to understand society, but driving flash cars is their priority.
Don’t give a **** about local business rather see corporations strip our economy.
Self-Serving politicians feed the fat cats ambition, Cameron or Corbyn? It’s us the people who are suffering!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
Through the smoke, **** and *****
A parking fine, ***** on it.
The most horrid sight, we’re used to it, right?
The capital’s disgusting and we’re ******
Lengthy ques for employment,
Assorted drugs for enjoyment,
Our bank account’s bust, believe it we’re ******
The government won’t even lend a hand.
Will it be Lidl or Aldi?
Wetherspoons, cheap and rowdy.
An overdraft to, purchase more *****
Fracking makes us hate you more, it’s true.
Unpunctual trains, privatisation.
It’s ******* cold at the station.
Elite middle class, this country’s a farce,
Don’t even get me started on the EU.
Chicken wings and pollution,
Private health care – THAT’S THE SOLUTION!
Increased licence fees, no money for tea,
Five more years of Cameron and we’re *******
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
When did news parody
stop being funny?
Was it somewhere between
Alan Jackson’s 9/11 cash-in
and Donald Trump’s hair?
Was it BoJo stranded on a zipline over London,
or Cameron’s alleged porcine relations
(bizarrely black-mirroring fiction)?
When did the news
start doing Chris Morris’ job for him?
When did they start
pre-satirising the headlines?
“No evidence mermaids exist,” says US Government.
Swimming pool evacuated after prosthetic leg is mistaken for **********
Robots follow Marco Rubio to South Carolina.
I swear, I didn’t
make any of those up.
The actors on Saturday Night Live
are more statesmanlike
than the Presidential Primary Candidates they’re lampooning.
How the hell do they breed these
creatures? These gurning,
overgrown foetuses with their
conveniently dead ****** sisters to get
all wet-eyed and tumescent over,
their boomingly hollow controversy and
their total, catastrophic
crashes of personality.
These loathsome
organic constructs who would seem
more relatable and trustworthy if
their image consultants made them wear
Nixon masks for every
public appearance.
When did it all become
this strange, sick spoof
of itself?
Is there no one left in Britain who can make a sandwich?
Man dressed as penguin receives more votes than the Liberal Democrats.
Piers Morgan given jail time for illegally hacking ‘phones and gloating about it.
Okay.
I made the last one up.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
Preamble at the showdown the fighters eye to eye
Droning pulse of discourse from the referee is dry,
Bouncing back to my corner the butterflies take charge
For the other guy’s a monster, like a Doberman at large.
Bell resounds alarmingly, I shuffle forth to meet
A combination thrown with steel…it whacks me off my feet.
Seeing stars I resurrect to lurch about the ring
To try to keep some distance from the monster’s punching sting.
Roaring crowd are baying now they call to take me out
The Doberman is grinning for he reckons it’s a route,
The flashing light confusing, the noise a steady din
As the monster comes in quickly to achieve expected win.
Throwing jabs to keep him back, retreating to the rope
I cover up with everything to give myself some hope
He pounds with his salvos they hammer hard and fast
His breathing rasping in my ears I pray to God I last.
Saved by the bell and cold water, such disgrace
The crowd are loudly booing, I’ve not put leather on his face,
A wash of resolution hotly surges from within
So I **** the mouth guard back and rush on out to tackle him.
Defensive expectations had him open up his chin
So I feinted with a left and launched a mighty right with spin,
Boring in with fury and a combination score
I hit him with an uppercut which traversed from the floor.
Miraculously the eyeballs rolled and disappeared from sight
I threw another flurry…but had no one to fight
Flat out on the deck he lay, the Doberman was out
As I bounced around like Rocky to the punters frenzied shout.
Camera flashes blinded as the raving crowd went wild.
It defied all expectations, I was the sacrificial child.
Bets were laid that I would fall within a round or two
The screaming din reflected that all bets were in the poo.
The countdown took forever and I swear I watched each stroke
And kept one eye on the fallen, should he rise he’d go for broke,
My amazement with two wobbly knees and heaving lungs of fire
When my leaden glove was held aloft to victory entire.
Winners come and winners go but this I’ll not forget
When fortune favoured sweetly…and I collected on the bet!
Marshalg
My thanks to Shane Cameron…a real fighter.
14 April 2013 (Pukehana Paradise)
© 2013 Marshal Gebbie
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
Picture yourself unemployed, your life now in bin bags
With no home, no car and no roof over you
No food no boots no one to hold onto
You children don't recognise you
Whilst high on a hillside the political powers dine upon luxury food
Sipping their champers drinking your money
And looking down upon you
Using your money to fund and support all of their business intrests
Taken your life away, nothing left today
Lucy in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
ohh OOh Poor Lucy
Morning has come and her fingers now blue her face is dark and won't move
Her daughter can't wake her she cries "oh mummy"the coalition have killed you..
The government killed here with policy cuts and media lies each day
Cameron and Clegg Lining their pockets as more more people die
Lucys now gone on a boat to the heavens
the ferryman took her away took her today
Lucy died in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
Poor Lucy
Oh wow
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
I’m Cameron, call me Dave,
Power I do crave.
I’ll tell any story
To con you into voting Tory.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
Sara L Russell 17/3/15 at 13:25
What will they say of you in future times?
Were they duped by your duplicity
or did you fall on your double-edged sword?
Was the devil we knew any better than the unknown?
The future has a way of arriving early.
Are you ready now, for what it yet may bring?
Will you be knighted, or, benighted and beleaguered,
Fall fallow by the wayside of your ways?
Will the name of Cameron carry on,
Whatever else is lost or left behind?
Will David slay the apocolyptic giant of global warming,
yet terminate the service of National Health?
Was it wealth, or a poverty of emotional maturity
that led to such flotations and privatisations?
what sensations did you feel, did you reach referendum,
did you feel the earth move?
We never saw your manifesto made manifest.
We, the voters who voted not for you,
yet saw you rise, anticipate your fall.
Do promises count as any kind of plan?
And the future is arriving post-haste,
like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
Elections have a way of arriving early.
We are ready, with a big sharp X.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
The storm is coming, Mr Cameron dear,
you better prepare for your officers fear,
96 ride that blackened cloud,
they shout for justice clear and loud,
For 23 years its been kept at bay,
the truth is out, the angels pray,
they pray that the law, will carry their cross,
For the souls they took, the souls we lost,
Shame on them that did us wrong,
and those who believed all along,
the lies, the lies, they told and spun,
in that vile newspaper the s*n,
Our fight nearly won,
but its only begun,
our lost ones beside us,
they gather and applaud us,
Coz were scouse no one believed,
this made blood boil and tempers seethe,
but with dignity.... and love we meant ,
we fought against the goverment,
It's a long fight for justice,
with all whats against us,
that cloud with a silver lining,
has arrived with perfect timing,
our liver birds bow and say,
come take them shankley, lead the way,
and walk in peace, hand in hand,
and go to rest in the promised land,
the outcome being in our sight,
our hearts rejoice and feed our fight,
battered and tired we stand together,
we wont walk alone, no way, NEVER........
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Dear Seb,
My infatuation with you did not impress.
Dear Josh,
We were 5000 feet above sea level, with a fear of heights.
Desperation fuelled the climb.
Dear Dave,
You were my first love.
You chew me up and refuse to spit me out.
Dear Dan,
I am sorry.
Dear Alex,
You should be sorry.
Black and purple did not suit my skin.
Dear Shea,
We tried too hard.
We lived in too many shadows.
Dear Dave,
I cannot get you out of my bones.
You squat beneath my ribcage.
Dear Craig,
You gave me disillusion with meaningful words.
I tried to love you.
Dear Joe,
You are breathtaking and the everything of everything.
And I do not know how to be enough.
Dear Keith,
Why did we do it?
Dear Theo,
I would have broken that softness in your eyes.
Dear Dave,
Your indelible imprint colours everything I do.
Dear Cameron,
You are my what's next.
Dear Joe,
You stroked my hand and my hair to wake me.
You are afraid of me.
Dear Dave,
I still remember every word.
Every one.
Dear Lucas,
In my head we had infinity.
Dear Matthew,
I was a vacuum in your life.
Together we were less than nothing.
Dear Joe,
You are the birds singing at dawn.
Why do you want me?
Dear Dave,
I still remember.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
.
I survived Cameron and his band of hatchet men
remember when Thatcher took the axe to school milk?
but you ******* voted her in
as smooth as silk
but we see her now as the sows ear she was.
I won't vote for Corbyn
he never went and yet he's already a has been,
never seen that before excepting Jeremy and they named a park after him.
Thorpe.
Once
when I drew a breath in Toxteth
and the carnival was the riot
I got a bit
but that's censored.
Anyway
in Lancaster it's raining although it was cool down in Blackpool with the Duchess and only a slight breeze and a sneeze or two passing by Blackpool zoo.
Goodnight y'all
don't fall asleep
before you've said
your prayers.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
Diaz Cameron
Always reads the Cedameron
In the orinigal Ilatian.
What a mowan!
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
You, you are a
Thermodynamic
Buoyant
Force
******* like the
single-minded
Octopus
that takes and takes
Strong energy,
mild energy
Inhales the organically-grown
Petals
of all flowers, regardless
Good intentions.
that sure is nice
What humility,
Artificial
Plastic
Egotistical
Manufactured
Trademarked
Birthed
Regurgitated
and
too thoughtfully acted by
You.
But I see it.
You have
not landed.
The world needs your
footprint but
it does not need your self-indulged
hunger.
Be humble.
Your success is not
marked if
You are not humble.
Keep your tentacles
in your depths and
Be
Poised
Poised you seem to be and success is your process but
Humility is my truth.
We float on
neighboring clouds of
public service
that have not the same hue.
Take a step back.
I see you mean
No harm
like a dinosaur with no arms
Good intentions.
Take a step back.
You desire to envelop others yet
You do so
so
mindlessly
I see it.
Let your brain rest from the throne.
the world does not serve you
It serves nothing
and no one as
We are all lucky.
You say that you’re lucky
For all
to hear
just to endear
And that is the problem
My dear, be poised.
Publicize your life for
documentation?
No
Take a step back.
We need your
love
compassion
independence
ambition
Real
not fake.
Transform this and
Good intentions.
The world is not yours
You walk on its leaf
and repeated, recycled
identities
Take a step back.
The world is not yours.
Cameron Bell, Copyright © 2019
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
Sometimes when I pick up the pen
I feel my 5 ft 7 and ¼ inch frame
perk up like David at the sound
of Goliath's slurs.
I swear i'm 6'6"
and ready to dunk the basketball
straight over Wilt Chambelain's head
made soft by the kisses and **** yous”
of the 20,000 he probably never called back.
Sometimes when I start to write I believe
that I am invincible like James Cameron's
submersible in Titanic's
C deck sifting through soot and broken china,
floating over smoke stacks and rusted bedposts,
or reaching out my robotic arm to open
up the door to the radio room that once
buzzed with hellogoodbyes.
Sometimes I feel like the soldiers walking
behind that little napalmed angel screaming
down that dirt road in Vietnam,
oblivious to the fire of my words.
Her cries shrink me back down to size.
But most times I feel like I'm hooked
up to a lie detector test in the dank basement of
an FBI facility, blood pressure rising while
the polygraph line traces
the outline of a mountain range
no one has ever hiked.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 10:19 PM UTC
it's the morning of Tuesday
June twenty fifth, and the fog, again
rolls in against lima and listlessly scales the escarpment
and Dana (like I) high on ******* and circumstance
has gone with Chris and Cameron, to watch from the cliffs
(this time something loose has shifted, and I hope they kiss).
and Corey is here
asleep to my left
tired from a whole day of travel and
Dana calls her an insomniac but
I think she's at rest.
And an empire is how she took off her shirt
and gold is the way she doesn't object
when I trace maps in her back and put an ear to her chest.
because I don't know who this is or why
my fantasies fixated here, but they work, unbidden
behind purposed eyes
buena vida es buena ficion y
good fiction is impossible to expect.
like when under your skin, New England, dunes
drift and dance to the hand at your neck.
because I have everything I could ever want and for
me in my figured out life, these flighty daydreams aren't problems but
more like preproduction films to maybe see, to get lost in, given breath and a bit of sunlight.
because I have never heard Corey complain or object and until I do I
will continue to give to her everything I have, will continue to
try to understand the invisible hairs at the base of her spine.
try to reward what goes unrecognized.
because we're all bent up patchwork machines, and
I'm sure Corey crumbles inside as much as I, but
when you fly to peru and lay with certainty your head against mine,
into a stranger's neck, and lie still
when you could struggle to explain but don't even try
when you are beautiful, but keep on going still...
the ******* can't what my hands will,
in walking the staircase of her spine.
keep me watchful, and up all night,
to try in fingertips to recognize,
that you are beautiful and someone needs
to see you to sleep. to feel you to fly.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
Faith is a golden coil
That fits so greatly in the binding
Of texts that
Dictate a non-universal
Truth
Faith is a silver coil
That wraps around you nicely
Tightly
When times are hard and
Icy
Faith is a copper coil,
Cheap, commonly used and
Slithers, a bronze snaking cloud
Seeping quickly into
Permeable minds
Faith is an aluminum coil,
The easy way out.
Steals from your conscious
What can be found in
Yourself
Faith is essential
Needed to man
And to man armies
Unable to feel soft,
Cotton-ball faith
Anymore
Cameron Bell, Copyright © 2019
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 11:50 PM UTC
Paint the madness of your life
Wild colors like the sky
Just before the sun sets
To say goodbye
Begin again
What's stopping you? Are you crazy?
Show me how crazy you can be
Paint the world with your crazy love
Every part of your human being
This is you
Embrace yourself with the brush of life
Colors fly from finger tips
Music notes waltz and sway
Through your teeth and out your lips
When you're awake
When you're asleep
Scream it out if you have to
Shout to the world with your
Greatest madness
I love you!
Inner demons creating miracles
Of unspeakable beauty
Forcing you to love even the darkest
Parts of yourself that you fear
Tame the beast
Ride the wolf inside of you
Paw prints of beauty and life
Leaving your tracks of love and light
Behind you
Glow with the power of a thousand sandstorms
Of crazy affection rising all around you
Turn the madness into the most beautiful portrait you know
The painted masterpiece of your soul
Spread your wings, let the Phoenix in you ascend
Feathers out arms wide spread ready set go!
What are you waiting for?
Paint the madness of your soul
You are a masterpiece to behold
Ride the wolf
Feel your heartbeat thunder
Like an earthquake through the floor
Penetrating love across the globe
Do not underestimate your power anymore
You are an eagle so let your voice soar
You are a dragon so let your fire burn forever more
You are a lion, you are
Any beast or creature you desire
Paint your madness like wild fire
Reach down into your core
And let your madness roar!
tHE tERRY tREE
Image | Prophetic Sketch 25 Lion of Judah Awakens With A Roar | Anne Cameron Cutri | Inspired by Spirit
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
The elections are done and dusted
the results are all squared up
the cliched media champagne shots
while you drink from the victory cup
So a pretty good vote for the SNP
and a chance to pick a path
a referendum for Scotland's New Age
Cameron thinks you're having a laugh
But could an independent Scottish state
flourish North of the border
For Downing Street it would really grate
causing anguish and disorder
At home in the land of my fathers
our nationalism is awful
jobs for the boys expenses used to buy toys
so much ****** useless waffle
Our status there is lower than yours
oh boy it is such a pity
at least you are a country
not a poor ****** principality
So with hope for a bonny new future
your oil and renewables may help
you need political class and a boot up the ***
If you fail them the voters will yelp
So now you are into the parliament
Southern Scotland is your new domain
I am sure you won't fail to keep hot on the trail
of a future that's bright once again
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 2:36 AM UTC
Compassion informs my outrage,
Skinny black kid,
super sensitive
playing the violin
for kittens,
pacifist vegetarian
tried to tell policemen
“I am not violent.
I’m an introvert.
I am different,”
as they choked him
then had paramedics
dose him
with ketamine.
Buds of pain
do not bloom
but burst, spray,
and sprain
my brain
that was self-trained
in the art of
kindness and reason.
It takes
less than five minutes
to break a mother’s heart,
to tare her world apart,
to shatter and claim
that they are not to blame
after unloading a full clip
on an autistic thirteen-year-old
who wasn’t mentally equipped
to do exactly what he was told.
Love and mercy
should rule the day
but cops make
violence great again.
Human suffering
is not magic
just unnecessarily tragic. cont.
Micheal Brown,
Eric Garner,
Tamir Rice,
George Floyd,
Freddy Gray,
Breonna Taylor,
Elijah Mcclain,
Linden Cameron,
Jacob Blake,
and so many other names.
There has to be a better way.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
Dear Mr Cameron, what are you trying to do,
you are getting rid of soldiers by score.
You are turning "Good Old Blighty"
into Europe's private Loo.
and on the side you want us all to go to war.
With the cut-backs,
will they get there.
Do we know if they can swim
Perhaps ask your mate OBAMA
may let them ride with him.
It seems that you "Prime Minister"
forget who pays your wage
You want to spend those Billions
on a brand new railway line
You will save, what, 30 minutes
which is really not an age
But like many of your policy's
you'll very likely change your mind.
I find a piece of paper
would help you without a doubt
If the things you write seem stupid
when you read
and the figures don't look viable
you could always rub them out
This would then leave lots of money
for the things we really need.
Didn't anybody tell you
when you did first get the job That "for" the British people
you are meant to do some good.
Not to make the poor get poorer
and be forced to go and rob .
Should we re-employ that man
called Robin Hood.
Get a grip I say to you,
do yourself a favour. Perhaps staying in this country
you may not lose out to Labour.
You penalize the unemployed
who cannot get a job.
But for the rich
you keep the taxman from their door
and for your mate the banker you
will save him a few bob.
How about some time and effort
aimed a little more at the poor.
We all know what Obama
really does expect from you,
but remember every now and then
it's good to tell him, No. You don't have to walk behind him
doing what he wants you to.
It would be nice if you politely
could tell him where to go.
Also!
Brussels cannot rule
this country any longer. Who do they think they are making
all these stupid rules.
Whilst we weaken this UK
they get stronger every day,
do they forget we won a war
and we are far from being fools.
I do hope "Mr Cameron"
you might think about today
and contemplate upon the issues
that I and others raise.
Then instead of pleasing Europe
and the good old USA,
you might keep that job of yours and
warrant a little praise.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
I met her in Cameron Park
I don't remember her name
but i call her Padma
(padma is the sacret lotus)
she was a little asian girl
about 9 years old
her mother was going
to the food co-op
and she let padma stay
with me in the park
we shared a sandwich
she probably shouldn't have
accepted food from strangers
but I guess by that point
we weren't strangers
we fed the pigeons and a squirrel
she told me she was going
to dance lessons later that day
she showed all the moves
in very french sounding names
she loved dancing
and she was great at it
we talked about God
funny thing to talk about
with a 9-year old
but whe was eager to tell me
about the Buddha
I told her I liked Buddha too
but that I didnt't
believe in God
she couln't believe
that I didn't belive in God
but she said that
some day I would see
"look at the sun" she said
"look at the tree"
"look at the pigeons"
"their feathers"
"is that not the work of God?"
I could not disagree
and I didn't have the heart
to say
"lool at that homeless guy"
"look at the front page of the paper"
"drugs"
"war"
****
******
I didn't have the heart to tarnish
her heart of gold
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
I simply cannot remember yesterday
Or the day before that
Or a week before that
Or even a month
Or year
Or years...
I simply cannot remember anything.
And I hate myself for it
Because I want to remember the way your kisses tasted
When I gave you your Beatles magazines on our
Six month anniversary.
Or how we went on a double date with our
Friends, Paul and Cameron, and how we
Snuck into an elementary school
And kissed under the trees
And how we shared a root beer float
And I spilled it all over my dress.
Or how we walked halfway to the dress shop hand
In hand until we crossed the road.
Or how you bought a beautiful dress
That I cannot wait to see you in one day.
And I want to remember how Paul made those
Cute little kitten noises... And how each one
Reminded me of you.
As I sit here listening to the CD you made me
I try to remember every detail of our love making that
Night and day. I want to remember your breath in my ear
And to remember the way I kissed your neck
And *******
And stomach.
Or the way we smile at each other
And the way I catch you looking at me
While I'm looking at something else intently
Trying to figure out its purpose in our universe.
I just want to remember the way you smiled at me
Today forty years from now when I tell our adopted children
About how we met many long years ago.
I want to remember the way you smell, which I know I always will,
Because I constantly try to keep your scent on me at all times.
And I just want to remember the words you have written and spoken
Because those words are gifts from God that I thank him every single day for, and I could not be more grateful for you and your words than
I am right now.
I am in love, and I love you so much my darling, And I know that
This is the one thing I simply can never forget.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC