Wondering why my old poem is true...only good for one thing...every night of her life.

The dots ( Read more... )

Don ran away ( Read more... )

I am myself ( Read more... )

There is poison inside me ( Read more... )

I am a piece of trash ( Read more... )

My skin is like tissue paper ( Read more... )

A quiet one you are ( Read more... )

She puts on her liquid make-up ( Read more... )

Observe ( Read more... )