It's Never Done with Me
If I had a gun, I'd blow my brains all over the kitchen and be done with it.
january girl is mourning the death of her friends. one, two, now three. she loves the smell of fall and the turning trees, but it shatters her, puddles her, then sucks her into electrons.
1 Comments:
That's how I've felt lately. It would be for stupid reasons of course, the inability to cope with what really is very petty. But nonetheless I've run that scenario over and over.
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