smitblog

i cant afford a thing you sell, i cant deliver what you need, which leaves me feeling broke and cheap, aware of this control i need eyes to see you as myself, ears to hear you plain and clear, arms to hold your wretched head, lips to speak the things i fear

ive climbed a tree inside my mind, and when i made it to the top, i saw my mother as a child, she cried until her fever dropped when it ends where will these feelings go, will i even need to know, the truth will never meet my needs, i guess i need to let them go 

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