Umbrella
Don't expect perfection Or even a shade of normality. How can we make this better? A voice from the purple land brings a smile to my puffy face. Ending self hatred for now. Tell me the story of the sour grapes and dry my fifteen-year-old brain. Send the bad monsters away. I feel a shadow of memory behind me. Breath on my neck. Close the door Stop racing Red to amber and back down again. Nerves of steel. Written September 16th, 2001 © on Sep 16 2001 02:36 AM PST, Louise Bell 18 • 0 • 8
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Don't expect perfection..."