I had become a leftover. I am nothing more than a plate of food he forgets about, And soon he will dispose of me. He comes to me when he is hungry for love, I feed him hoping he'll stay, But he leaves. Because that's all I am to him, Just a leftover.
Winnie Jones never asked for what she painted or drew in the brief blackout spells that a shining within gave her. She didn't ask to see a lizard man with homicidal tendencies in an oddly named town or a boy with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. To top that, she sure as hell didn't ask to get involved. But unf...