I challenge you to speak with conviction. To say what you believe in a manor that bespeaks the determination with which you believe it. Because contrary to popular belief, it is not enough these days, to simply question authority. You have to speak with it, too.
I don’t write novels, I write comatose victims.
I coast through second grade, and leave a trail of bread crumbs.
“When it comes to putting words together it’s certain that I’m better
Every verse you heard is like a personal letter
So when I die, my fans can say they all knew me
Lowkey, people’s army, yours truly”
Make it through these murky waters. I can’t afford to wait around for you and your forever tempting visage. It all always seems to come full circle, doesn’t it? I find myself thinking.
Maybe this will be good for me….
Maybe this is exactly what I need….
Could this fill that fucking gap?
It twinges to feel Fate’s sharp fangs ripping through my ass meat.
*Facepalm* I’m a fucking idiot.
I’ve always been better off on my own. Why did I think that could be