Regrets

Shackles

“kiss, kiss.”

It drags on and on.

There will be worse days.

Says the wide hypowackerlucidify.

Everyone cares.

But I try not to.

That’s the consequences of being the Unconvential.

You spit at me.

It feels like paradise.

Leave me alone is the most childish sentence I make.

This is not my armchair.

This is surely not my home.

I hesitate.

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