Regards to below
Ill say I'm never going to admit to an end, and I probably won't but months and days and weeks and weekends and days off school and family holidays and family dinners have tailed past since mid year.
I've thought of possible angles I could've seen or should see now parallel to the weight. I've endured the cliche bath tub *relax, reflect and cry by candlelight and some jazz music so I could scoff down a taste of a different companionship.
I don't want to say it and I forbid to forbid myself from restricting any enrichment. I talk poor and playfully foregoing my prestige that stretches a muscle of religion somewhere in me.
I'm progressing into a clarified metaphor of any cinematic qualms I'm holding onto hesistate and say it's from you.
These days and ambitions born merely from mostly scandalous. And somewhat dishonour.
Fuck you
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