It’s that gut turning deep-seated feeling when you wanna quit, break, and cry except you cannot find any good reason to as a consequence, the
Fetched my cleverly thought out and over analyzed diagnosis, I had received last year To make sure that I still understand who I am and
Impulsive this is not, by virtue of perpetual hours of considerate speculation I have come to find that I cannot find reprieve in a phony
“Why don’t you take an afternoon nap?” They’re rejuvenating you say? Except my dreams aren’t cute and fuzzy, I will gladly illustrate if I may…
As the leaves will begin to turn burnt, golden, and browned, I begin to feel cold in my soul watching them spill to the ground.
Tear down the wall then build it up again, not the one by Trump or for the division of men. My analogy for life separating