fuck i need to write something new now

damn alr

no way you read it in that time

frshly copy and pasted from my notes app man

wooden puppets body, bloodied on the floor, holding a gun, strings dissipated.

actions for many a cycle, to meet the heavens that have bound me with this string of puppets, flying into the skies. That feather, the burden of the dove to carry out the now dead dreams of the cold w

As my narrowing mind shatters, a piece of the broken down rubble flies away; a repressed feather from the dove in my memories, my past. As it lifts, sailing through the dark cloud that has shrouded my

now watch me cook

I'm calling this one 'Doven'

hi

with another poem

im backk

lmao that one was mid

where did that plot twist come from

woah

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

sailing the clouds as the useless emptied anatomy plunges

ily water

a little piece of that dove flies away

(okay see ya)

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

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.

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

lemme think rq

i can work with that

juicy topic

ill make it good i pinky promise

or happy

a sad one maybe

gimme a topic

yo red

uhmm

imma call this one

anyways

and it can be found by people

hurts my hand

nah red

imma call this one

and i think ill keep writing

you have too though