The rocks will wear away, the trees will grown as just as soon fall, the birds will sing and eventually burst into a mess of blood and feathers. Clockwork. We all die. Nothing at all ever happens. The moment something good happens its real intentions are revealed and you find yourself sitting at a computer and typing your life away. Conor
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E is for the euphoric bliss she fills me with.
M is for the money I'd raise to break her out of jail.
M is for the many night we'll spend fighting over bills.
A is for the aspirations she hides from the world to be a man.
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~And me I'm in my bedroom
Drawing in my notebook
Cause my hand thinks I'm an artist
But my heart knows I'm a poet~
*enjoy*
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