Right now I just want to crawl under my bed with a pen and paper.
And come out probably a million years later.
Cos age would've certainly killed all my haters.
The liars and the cheaters and all of the fakers.
YOU ARE READING
IM JUST TROUBLE
PoetryMy soul is ink waiting to be made into words. My heart is a pen to channel my soul unto paper. And my mind is the human to wield my heart.
