Palm lines trace footsteps in my
desert Hands that are wrinkles of
Yesteryear's anxiety grips my Slumber
Mute without Breathing normally
formally known as Comfort...
Baked goods, aka Mother
(faker) aka Mirror
Smiles back through the
window pain when i frown
lines travel down the corners of my
mouth opens to draw words from the
Well, I guess we all feel the same
2 comments:
HAHA i smell PMS
it's probably that time of month huh?
the baked goods give it away
-DONKEY KONG
Damn. Is it that obvious?
Thanks for a retarded comment chan.
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