It’s all gone to hell.
There’s always a catch. Sometimes, it’s the fall.
I bet you thought it would be different, being human.
…sharp teeth of an angel.
I write what I feel, and I let it go.
We point at the path of sticky entrails and we blame you.
This can’t bode well, can it?
A heart monitor with no ups or downs reflects a dead heart.
Looks like rain…
I told you, it’s a lie.