My head will concave,
And my brain will explode.
My thoughts will fly at you.
Your walls will be smeared,
With my every memory,
With my entire existence.
All the love and all the hate.
Every dirty thought,
And all the pretty little dreams.
You think you’re the contradiction of perfection,
And I think this makes you all the more perfect.
I think. I think. I think. I think.
They fly at you, from my mind,
They settle around you,
They’ll never leave you.
And then you change,
Into someone new,
Yet my thoughts, never fail to remain.
Notes | Permalink
