anyways

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imma call this one

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uhmm

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yo red

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gimme a topic

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a sad one maybe

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or happy

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ill make it good i pinky promise

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juicy topic

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i can work with that

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lemme think rq

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The same heart i ran around freely with as a child, beating for my love of my life, my soul, is in strings. Strings Heaven must have wound, for I cannot and musn't escape, as it slowly and purposly

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squeezes my body, winding tighter. I think back with my puppeteered mind, to the days where I was like a dove, flying with no direction, yet fulfilled with freedom.

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As my mind collapses into my actions, becoming one with my cold wooden body

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(okay see ya)

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a little piece of that dove flies away

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ily water

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sailing the clouds as the useless emptied anatomy plunges

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a piece of me, escaped from my narrowed imagination, flown away to live out the dead dreams of the bloodied body lying on the floor, stringed and puppeted hand with a gun

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woah

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where did that plot twist come from

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