Taken back by years of paint put on a surface, years wasted? or wasted years? i can never tell the difference
I never tell myself the truth i have failed, but when i get the urge to say ''you probably don't have to die today'' something punches my teeth out and my tongue starts to bleed, i dont choke on the blood but i am certainly uncomfortable
I sit there twitching with so much life inside of me, but i have to lie very still, because if i move a pack of wild dogs will come and eat me for breakfast