The real deal is up here: I am worried for this girl.

[disappearwithme]

This is something I believe:

Everything you wish for, comes back to you.

I don't know if I should post it in such a note tone. But I will because, I suppose, it is what it is.

I mean, I could turn this into a conversation with myself.

But with the consideration of such, is.

And a poem may prevail, through the turning tides of seas,
unintentionally, almost, mockingly,
and through this subconscious state
the mind wanders in such a limber fate.

The mind is what it believes,

I have to get back to cutting my hair.
Good night.