My Crisis

I am starting to think every little thought in PostSecret format.

I should probably stop thinking cryptically.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to think anymore.

Mmmmymistake

If you were a facebook group. I wouldn't like you.

Thanks for asking if I was okay today, it meant a lot.

Cupboard

Stuck in the Wasatch
With a million beehives
And a million oppressive thoughts

My word is worth
The stars on the flag
And the pages of The Book of

I am what binds you.
What keeps you.
What makes you feel possessed

Even when you're liberated
You are doubtful
Washed

All you know are these words of man
And these tedious rules
Oh, all these rules are your words.

One day, we will all run out of words
Will you be content with your last ones?

I am

Trying to make poor excuses for titles.
These are not titles.
These are sentence fragments.
Sad
Little
Formatted
Sentence Fragments
You must think I have deep thoughts, huh?
You're so right.

He

Has her
And nothing nice

That

Girl has claws
And nothing nice