My grandma fell asleep listening to comforting sounds.
I love my poh poh.
“It’s hard to make sense. Feels as if I’m sensing you through a lens.”
I fucking knew it.
Why did you have to prove me right?
Where do these instincts lead me to?
I enter the gray weather.
You had to mess with my saliva.
No wonder, it was a fluke.
No more questions.
No more pleads.
No more riding over me.
The transfer wasn’t enjoyable.
I didn’t ask myself because I was afraid of the answer.
I wished the morning to arrive soon.
I’m not eased.
Mew is not helping.
You’re not present.
Let it go.
It was the final last straw.
The lightbulb has burst.