I sit in a van with several other people. But it's alright. I know these people. I feel them to be like family, but they probably later see me as just a friend. Just somebody who found their group, and decided to stay. They're polite to me. I like them. But I don't know if they feel the same about me.
My brain says they can't stand me. But I like the way they smile.
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Poetry Book 4
Poesíahello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at S...
