"irresponsible" poems
People cheat,
people lie
To get ahead
or
just to get by.
They do it out of deemed necessity
or
have made it a successful habit.
Some would feel bad,
but
some wouldn't lose sleep over it.
Some lie to protect...
Some lie to infect...
With little remorse
or
full blown guilt.
Either way
risking
all they've built.
A lie is an accessory
that most tend to abuse.
A convenient mask
for the ugly truth
that most would misuse.
Lies are...
The bane of relationships
Destroyer of trust...
Conveyed by irresponsible lips.
So have I ever lied?
Have I ever desecrated
honesty's pride?
Have I ever wielded it
to save others from harm?
Have I ever employed it
to boost my charm?
No I haven't,
now that's a lie...
Spouted that so easily,
I didn't even need to try...
Honestly,
YES I HAVE.
**I am no exception...
I am no saint,
I'm only human**...
with an ill sense of direction.
I have lied...
How about you?
Search deep inside...
You know you have too...
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
I've just been told
I'm a huge disappointment
Forgive me for doing this
but it just hurts
A girl once laughed at me
for crying when a teacher
gave up on teaching me
she said it was a stupid little thing
A boy once forgot me
after talking to me only a day before
He had said I was beautiful
but it seems that was a lie too
I've been told today
I was a disappointment
I don't know how to feel
I don't know what to do
So forgive me if what I do
is drastic and irresponsible
But I'm a disappointment, it's true
and I am replaceable
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
A ball player and a thief
Will likely be pregnant by age 16.
Lives in the ghetto and is poor,
Often identified as a *****
Runs fast and does drugs,
Hangs around with gangsters and thugs.
Has a gun or a friend with one.
Speaks in slang, must be part of a gang.
Mess with her, she'll pull a Sharkeisha on you.
If you were to picture a person of any race,
That fits the description that just took place.
A baller and **** hmm... what race matches that?
Yeah you're right, that person is probably black.
Is fast, does drugs, and speaks with slang?
Lemme guess, is he also in a gang?
A young mother who is also poor?
Bet she doesn't know who the dad is, what a *****
All these negative stereotypes associated with being black.
Its disheartening, sicking and its really sad.
And whats sadder is that if you are the opposite of all of that,
You are often told that you're not really black.
Does your skin colour change for going to Harvard?
Will it change for speaking like an English scholar?
Because I play hockey and not ball, does that make me white?
So what if I'm the type of person to run away from a fight?
You don't have to be irresponsible and rude to be considered black.
It's your ethnic background that determines that.
And to some people, all we are is the complexion of our face.
Light, dark, somewhere in the middle, to some, the bad of a few defines
our whole race.
Does running away from a cop, and being black give someone grounds to shoot?
Why is it that my skin color is what is most important to you?
Is asking a question when getting arrested for no visible reason really resisting arrest?
Does struggling to break free from restraints to catch my breath, give someone a reason to grab on tighter to strangle me to death?
The actions of a few don't define the actions of a whole group.
And this assumption that all black are thugs, thieves and liars has done clear damage to,
Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin and so many more.
They didn't know it, but just by being black, they put their lives at risk when they stepped out their door.
Don't you think it's gotten too far when we have to prove Black Lives Matter, or when we the saying of a movement is Hands Up, Don't Shoot.
Should people have to be reminded that blacks are real people and that our lives matter too?
We are athletes and musicians.
Lawyers and physicians.
The leader of a nation.
An anchorman of a news station.
We don't all fit into that mold that is preset for us.
You can and should expect great things of us.
Because we don't have to be a **** or a baller to be considered black.
We define what type of black person we are, we determine that.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
insecurity is eating me
the world is showing me
that you have to be having it all
or you have nothing.
i should be happy
with my natural blessings.
my hair
my face
my me
because it all belongs to God
and i was made special in his image
and if he supplies all of my needs
then my natural self is okay
that is all i should need.
those people that i envy
those people aren't happy
those people are irresponsible
those people are temporary
because they waste their life
and feed on
on temporary things
and you are what you eat.
those people don't care
those people are full
of the gigantic meal called
themselves
their ego.
i see
but the would feeds me
a different meal
which i am the cook
they feed me my own
unsatisfactory.
wow
this is how i eat and be eaten.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC
being a good student is always one of the reasons
being a good student is one of the reasons why im a really inconsiderate friend, apparently
because i dont share my answers
because i dont break the rules
and because i dont hate going to school
i just dont have the heart to tell them that school is actually my quiet
that school is my rest from life
that school is my escape
that this is how it was
being a good student is one of the reasons why im an unreliable brother, it seems
because i dont tend to their needs when im home
because i dont help them with their homework
and because i dont have any time left for them bec im focusing on my studies
i just dont think they'll want to hear that im not doing any of it for them because no one did those for me
that no one made me dinner at age 13
that no one ever taught me how to answer my homework
that this is how it was
being a good student is one of the reasons why im a irresponsible son, i believe
because i dont ever want go to family outings
because i dont prioritize them over school meetings
and because im barely home from sleeping over my classmates' houses just to finish a ******* output
i just dont think he'd appreciate me telling him i never felt like a part of that family
that i never felt like he'd prioritize me over anything
that i never once felt like coming back to this house was the same as coming back home
that this is how it was
that this is how it is
that im so sick of everyone saying im
an inconsiderate friend
or an unreliable brother
specially an irresponsible son
so if the only thing im good at are quizzes and projects and tests and deadlines
then i sure as hell am gonna keep at it
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
somebody knew Lincoln somebody Xerxes
this man:a narrow thudding timeshaped face
plus innocuous winking hands, carefully
inhabits number 1 on something street
Spring comes
the lean and definite houses
are troubled. A sharp blue day
fills with peacefully leaping air
the minute mind of the world.
The lean and
definite houses are
troubled.in the sunset their chimneys converse
angrily,their
roofs are nervous with the soft furious
light,and while fire-escapes and
roofs and chimneys and while roofs and fire-escapes and
chimeys and while chimneys and fire-escapes
and roofs are talking rapidly all together there happens
Something,and They
cease(and
one by one are turned suddenly and softly
into irresponsible toys.)
when this man with
the brittle legs winces
swiftly out of number 1 someThing
street and trickles carefully into the park
sits
Down. pigeons circle
around and around and around the
irresponsible toys
circle wildly in the slow-ly-in creasing fragility
—. Dogs
bark
children
play
-ing
Are
in the beautiful nonsense of twilight
and somebody Napoleon
6.4k
Yes
This is a diary of a child
With a biological age of 5
To this world
She may be an ordinary one
But at the age 3, she got matured
Started to identify the space
Where she can contribute
She learned,
how to take care of self, when parents are out
how to be patient, when belly left half filled
how to do parenting, when her sister cries
how to be happy in small things
how to struggle for survival
Her way of life shows
At the age of,
3, she was like 25 years responsible
4, she was like 35 years responsible
5, she is like 50 years responsible
24 hours a day, she is on duty
7 days a week
I asked myself, what is childish?
That responsible 5 years child,
passing through
Or the 50 years old,
irresponsible one?
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 12:25 PM UTC
The hour that demands the following day be wasted.
The hour that proves you are irresponsible.
The hour for those under twenty-five.
The hour birds wake to begin their incessant morning clamor.
The hour the body begins to loathe the mind.
The hour focus drifts away on the smoke of tonight's last cigarette.
The hour of what-am-I-doing and how-can-I-live-like-this.
The incorrigible hour.
Chronic, hopeless.
The most degenerate of all hours.
There is little pleasure in familiarity with four in the morning.
If those birds are screaming love ballads to the early morning sun
three cheers for the birds. And let me now lie down to sleep
if I am to go on living.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Dearest Mother like no other
You always make me wonder
I don't know where I'd be without thee
Cause obviously without you, there'd be no me
Despite our different tastes and views
You always know what to choose
Irresponsible, stubborn or childish as I may seem
At the end of the day, a smile you'd beam
Melting away all my mistakes
Telling me it's part of what it takes
I know you're struggling a lot
Yet I'm too weak (maybe even too stupid) to give it a shot
To try to help you out
Sometimes I'd like to shout
To the wind, hoping it'll answer
All I can do is include you in my prayers
A simple act of gratitude wont suffice
For everything you've sacrificed
Someday I'll repay all your efforts
But for now I can be the one you can go to for comfort
Thank you for your unconditional love
You're the closest to an angel that we have
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
To Struga Festival Golden Wreath Laureates
& International Bards 1986
Stand up against governments, against God.
Stay irresponsible.
Say only what we know & imagine.
Absolutes are coercion.
Change is absolute.
Ordinary mind includes eternal perceptions.
Observe what's vivid.
Notice what you notice.
Catch yourself thinking.
Vividness is self-selecting.
If we don't show anyone, we're free to write anything.
Remember the future.
Advise only yourself.
Don't drink yourself to death.
Two molecules clanking against each other requires an observer to become
scientific data.
The measuring instrument determines the appearance of the phenomenal
world after Einstein.
The universe is subjective.
Walt Whitman celebrated Person.
We Are an observer, measuring instrument, eye, subject, Person.
Universe is person.
Inside skull vast as outside skull.
Mind is outer space.
"Each on his bed spoke to himself alone, making no sound."
First thought, best thought.
Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.
Maximum information, minimum number of syllables.
Syntax condensed, sound is solid.
Intense fragments of spoken idiom, best.
Consonants around vowels make sense.
Savor vowels, appreciate consonants.
Subject is known by what she sees.
Others can measure their vision by what we see.
Candor ends paranoia.
Kral Majales
June 25, 1986
Boulder, Colorado
5.5k
Dear Sasha,
A war is coming,
I am aware of its gravity and I don’t know if I am ready,
To answer your question in your last letter,
Why do I cut so deep?
It’s because I know how words can cut deeper than any sword,
Don’t give me the bull **** that,
“sticks and stones can brake bones and words can never hurt you”
Sticks can snap your bones,
But words can snap your spirit and mind,
And these times are hard on my spirit,
“Time heals all”
but these wounds will take longer
So don’t tell me words don’t affect my life
If someone sits there in your face saying,
Your stupid and irresponsible long enough,
Torturing you constantly with their literary daggers,
You start to believe it,
You start to feel,
As much as I want to shrugged it off,
It weighs me down,
This curse called empathy,
A curse of a pacifist,
I take every word to heart,
And it ****** me off,
I know I am not what they say,
But this name tag on my uniform is all I have left of my identity,
I’m not sure if It’s true,
But I can’t help believe it anyway,
Don’t tell me to shrug it off,
Cause you can’t remove these battle wounds,
If you keep chiseling at this stone pillar it will crumble,
Letting loose my dogs of war,
I cut deep,
Cause I know the strength of words
I follow the golden rule,
So don’t make me use these literary daggers,
to leave lasting marks on your psyche,
Cause trust me I have,
And I can rip apart your world and all of its glory,
Cause I was trained to do so,
Make you doubt your identity,
cause mine was taken,
Cause it’s easy to make my pain…. yours,
But that would be too easy.
I will turn these daggers upon myself,
Because “If you have nothing nice to say don’t say anything at all”
If you are struck down,
You want to strike back,
These words and thoughts don’t just disappear,
These arrows are sharp and drawn,
I have to let them go somewhere,
Ill cut and stab myself before I hurt another,
I’ll take your pain for you,
No matter how much you don’t like me and try to tear me down,
I will not lash out,
I will not strike back,
Because that would make me no better than you,
I will cut myself before I cut you,
I cut myself so deep,
Cause I get over the pain,
The scares stay but the pain doesn’t,
As I finish this letter the anger has already left,
“you’re only as happy as you make yourself out to be”
So I will take the full force of their swords,
because I won’t dwell in the pain,
So I am going to move on from the hate,
So why do I cut myself so deep?,
because I know now I am strong enough to take it,
Yours truly,
The empathetic warrior
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
A waste paper bin
Left in the corner.
Containing little folded up letters,
Discarded as the heart was.
A gang of stupid teenage vandals having a laugh,
Disregarded what they had done.
Disposed of the butts irresponsible after having their smokes,
In the bin.
Not doused.
The silly lads.
Wandered away.
They did not see the smouldering,
the burning in that bin
The origami scraps,
Folded as swans,
Too charred to fly away.
Sadly written on the innards of the origami swans,
Words carried on love letters never to be seen again.
Their love was carried away on a puff of white smoke.
(c) Livvi
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
2006 —
"you can't run away."
"you can't wear makeup yet, you're not old enough."
"sorry sweetie, you can't do that."
"you can't. why? because i said so."
"you can't"
"you can't"
"you can't"
"you're just a child."
2014 —
"you can't go to art school, art is just a hobby. where is art going to get you in life?"
"traveling after you graduate? that's irresponsible, you can't do that."
"you can't just go around making bad decisions. think about your future."
"you can't be engaged, you're too young."
"you can't"
"you can't"
"you can't"
"you're supposed to be an adult."
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Truancy is a ***** with ***** stamps and skunky hair
her constant need to blow smoke up the ***** of those trying to try
is inconvenient at best, irresponsible at worst,
maybe amusing in the eyes of the elders.
Been there, done that
she rolls her eyes and pouts
slits her wrists with carnival glass
so she bleeds the multi-dimensional colors imperceivable to human eyes,
an entirely different color spectrum,
ultraviolet, super violent,
tasty and warm.
This young lady is no lady at all
just a little girl,
vulnerable and scared
and a total ****** *****
grabbing her ankles and thumping in dumpsters,
pretty little thing,
with scabs and gin
and cute little *** stains.
Leave her be,
this street walking angel
she never learned her lesson,
too swag for education.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 10:20 PM UTC
When Mr. Apollinax visited the United States
His laughter tinkled among the teacups.
I thought of Fragilion, that shy figure among the birch-trees,
And of Priapus in the shrubbery
Gaping at the lady in the swing.
In the palace of Mrs. Phlaccus, at Professor Channing-Cheetah’s
He laughed like an irresponsible foetus.
His laughter was submarine and profound
Like the old man of the sea’s
Hidden under coral islands
Where worried bodies of drowned men drift down in the green silence,
Dropping from fingers of surf.
I looked for the head of Mr. Apollinax rolling under a chair
Or grinning over a screen
With seaweed in its hair.
I heard the beat of centaur’s hoofs over the hard turf
As his dry and passionate talk devoured the afternoon.
“He is a charming man”—”But after all what did he mean?”—
“His pointed ears…. He must be unbalanced,”—
“There was something he said that I might have challenged.”
Of dowager Mrs. Phlaccus, and Professor and Mrs. Cheetah
I remember a slice of lemon, and a bitten macaroon.
3.5k
To you we are...
rebels
drunks
self centered ********
lazy
dumb
destructive
trouble makers
criminals
and irresponsible
But really we're...
heart broken
the misfits
young and in love
the dreamers
looking for our place
and most of all misunderstood
accept us
After all we're just
Teenagers.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
A three-year-old boy in Cleveland,
Himself a very young little kid,
Shot a baby dead on Sunday night.
The bullet hit in the face of the baby,
Then it was rushed to a hospital,
But was pronounced brought dead.
Who is to be blamed now?
The kid toying with the gun??
Or the irresponsible parents???
I think it is the society's fault,
Needless are the guns in homes,
Shouldn't the society repair itself?
But are the blames enough now?
Can blaming bring the baby back to life?
No. A big NO!
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
all the blood and tears that I wasted all this years
come from the pain and hurt, that I continue to fear
I'm left alone, left behind from anything possible
I'm not disrespectful nor irresponsible
so why was I lonely most the time
I did nothing more then just a couple crimes
I'm different, I know that for a fact
doesn't mean I have to get attacked
I dream and cry just like all the rest
I don't want to keep getting treated like I'm a lab rat test
I don't blend in with the colors of the walls
why is it that I never get invited to go the mall?
why is it that I don't get asked if I'm alright?
why I'm the person they always want to fight?
I must be a figure that looks like it needs to get beat
might as well throw me in a lions den, since I'm just a piece of meat
it's hurtful and sad that I get told to die
that the only friends I have aren't humans but flies
I'm not the best looking guy in world, I get that
doesn't mean you have to bash my skull with a bat....
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
We know it by the
Huge blinking lights
From rides that
Tend to make people
Throw
Up
Dairy Queen.
We know it by
Those big, intricate
Winding tatoos
That snake up the arms
Of half of the attendees
That have a message
That I can't read.
We know it by
Little children
Clinging,
Terrified,
To the hands of their
Irresponsible mothers.
And we know it
By inhaling so much
Secondhand smoke
That we're almost positive
That a little lung cancer
Has invaded our privacy.
We know it by
The Herndon Festival.
And we love it.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
Ah, Pinocchio--povero burattino°--
Always in a scrape; always in a jam.
The irresponsible, wooden-headed numbskull
Couldn't help but fall for every scam.
A walking, talking stringless marionette,
Pinocchio really would have had it made
In a modest home with babbo°° Gepetto.
But, instead, the foolish youngster strayed.
Ignoring the advice of the talking cricket,
Pinocchio EVEN smashed it with a hammer.
That right there should have been a reason
To throw the little rascal in the slammer.
The Fox and the Cat had no trouble
Dissuading the puppet from going to school,
Thus involving him in a series of adventures
Which often made him look like a fool.
The Fairy tried to be a good influence,
But Pinocchio's lies caused his nose to grow.
Constantly ignoring responsibilities,
The misguided boy, suffered constant woe.
(Swindled of his money, hanged on a tree,
And saved just in the nick of time
From being eaten, Pinocchio had
Too many adventures to fit into this rhyme.)
Fleeing with his lazy school chum Lucignolo
To the Paese dei balocchi,°°° there Pinocc
Turned into a donkey. Of all his follies,
This one had to be a masterstroke.
Once again a puppet, Pinocchio was swallowed
By a giant Pesce-cane,°°°° and then guess what!
The foolish boy was finally reunited
With babbo Gepetto in the fish's huge gut.
NOT until Pinocchio thought about others
And proved he was an honest and caring boy
Did his fortune start to change for the better,
And the stringless puppet became the real McCoy.
Does Pinocchio by any chance remind you
Of any politicians out there at all
Who fail to listen to expert advice
And thumb their noses at common protocol?
And speaking of noses, we can also see
Politicians' noses grow as they tell lies.
Lying to themselves and to others as well
And ignoring our best interests and flouting compromise.
Such politicians--unlike Pinocchio--
Have strings to pull when performing for the masses.
The more they avoid solving REAL issues,
The more they end up looking like *****
They also love--these clever burattini--
To sell a bill of goods and promise many things.
But someone out there--or some corporation--
Is slyly and cleverly pulling their strings.
Do you ever wonder if these same politicians
Ever think about or care how you feel?
Will they eventually--as did Pinocchio--
Prove they have what it takes to be real?
°(burattino/i) - poor little puppet
°°(babbo) - dad(dy)
°°°(Paese dei balocchi) - Playland
°°°°(Pesce-cane) - shark
- by Bob B
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Warning: Bleeped out profanity. Read at your own risk
I would call you "dad"
But I would be ashamed to do so
You cannot stand up for anyone
Fooled into submission by her
That f·cking Satanic b·tch
Who is more irresponsible than I
I am ashamed you ever bed with her
I watch your offspring, wishing to be dead
Now I love your children
They even call me "Mama"
Isn't that alarming?
When they confuse their birthgiver with their sister?
But what would I know
I'm just a young girl
I don't know anything, says you
You overprotect me anyhow
As soon as I can leave, I'll be gone without a trace
Living with my mother, the woman that you hate
That you talk sh·t about, while I am within hearing range
Then act like nothing happened, do you think I am a bafoon?
At least I have the ****** courage
To tell someone to f·ck off
I'm glad I'm nothing like you
So, just f·ck off
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 4:10 AM UTC
An unexpected betrayal
Lurks dormant in her manipulative mind
Feelings of no remorse
Leaving all who loved her behind
A superficial glibness and charm
My Soulmate I thought I had met
Lies with no shame or guilt
Hurting others with no conscience or regret
A empty soul lacking a heart
Stone cold personality
Using people only for self gain
A target until she gets what she needs
Sadly incapable of love
Only a projection to hide her true self
Now moving on to the next victim
A sickness that cannot be helped
Hopeless with no cure
Lack of empathy a disordered brain
One day to find herself all alone
Her shallow emotions had caused only pain
Oblivious to the devastation she caused
Out to pacify her own selfish needs
Unreliable with irresponsible promiscuity
Never concerned about wrecking others lives and dreams…
© P.I. 2010
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
*I think of it as coming
back to myself,*
like a second cousin
visiting from the states
As if I'm waiting in
the airport terminal,
hands full of sweat
and a note stapled to my chest
*I can't remember when
I first became a space to be filled,*
an empty vessel floating
in between the veil
But I'm starting to feel
like more of a splutter
than a storm,
and it's moments like
this that make me think God
is just ******* irresponsible
I find myself digging
for my sense of wonder
at the bottom of my music box,
like the folded ears
of a saxophone player,
sitting across the bar
As if I'll slide my hands
across the slime of my exterior,
slip back into my identity
like an old coat
While I tumble into the
empty bellyed passion
of a man with small hands
and an inability to say my name,
hoping I'll come across
my purpose for life
while drenched in his ***
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 12:32 PM UTC
It's chilly/overcast
the street is empty: wednesday 215pm
everyone is at school or at work
This is when I thrive.
No worrying what each car is thinking of me as they drive by
the urge to check the backs of my shoes in case I've stepped in something is diminished.
"Whatismyhairdoingarethesepantstootight? These pants are too tight.
Hide your cigarette so they won't see. Am i walking in a straight line?
Should i be on this side of the road or the other
There's no sidewalk I don't know.
Someone I know
Someone I ******
Will inevitably drive by
Pity me
'That's her isn't it? Why is she walking by herself in the cold?
She doesn't have a car? Pathetic. She can afford to buy
cigarettes at ten bucks a pack? Irresponsible.'"
Head held high walking down an empty street
Useless.
I feel the heat still radiating from newly-parked cars
Small and fleeting moments of relief
Akin to meeting eyes with an attractive stranger on the street
Making whatever this is
Easier to bear
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
I've changed
You've changed
Remember when
duck duck goose
made sense
Giggling bubblely laughter
was all that mattered
Redlight
123
Greenlight
Tag you're it
Ring around the Rosies
Pockets full of posies
Remember it;
I've changed
You've changed
Life threw us ashes
Ashes ashes
123 Greenlight
Didn't see it coming
yellow
quickly
turned red
Ashes ashes
I can feel myself lifted
flying in the air
Your feet tucked into my belly
Your hands holding my hands
Remember that;
Miss Mary Mat Matt Mat
All dressed in black black black
With silver buttons
heading to a funeral home
That's what's she was doing
but it's not
exactly
how the children's song
goes huh
Remember when;
We'd stand in front of the mirror
****** Mary
****** Mary
****** oooooo don't say it**
I liked it best when
we played
ding **** ditch
Ashes ashes
life's ashes swirling
grey dark hazy
Smokey mist glimpses
as my mind races
Glittered pieces
Like a kaleidoscope
fading in and out
Making funny shapes & faces
Faces with no name
whom I've known
when life was simpler
Ring around the Rosies
Pockets full of posies
Posies ; deep pock marks
Scares an unnamed souls
from crashing though
a car's windshield
***She wanted to text
she'd be home soon***
123 Greenlight
yellow
quickly
turned red
Ashes ashes
I've changed
You've changed
Remember when
Being young & irresponsible was seemingly
our job
We didn't have to worry or wonder
Remember when;
Tag you're it
Ashes ashes
I changed
You changed
&
We All Fall Down!
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Ayeshah K.C.L.N
1977-Present
All right reserved
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC