Busking with boxes
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- Parts 7
Well here I am. My new life in the city. This sounds like the start to a cheesy musical. The only singing will be me when I'm busking. Anyway, my name is Zara Marshell. I'm 20 years old. For the past years of my life, I've lived with my parents in the country. I've moved out into Manchester to make a name for myself. It's kinda hard when all you have is 2 suitcases, a guitar, a rucksack and a bit of money to get food. I'm going to try.
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busking
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I made a wrong move... no no no. I made the worst move I could ever make. Why? Was I feeling daring? Did I want a challenge? I don't know what was going through my mind but I knew I wanted you, I wanted your hot impure body to mine and I wanted and still desperately want to know if you love me. I want the smoke you breath to fill my lungs, my heart intoxicated by your every vibrant nature and action. I want to be the one you hold close to your waist, your dark nature diminishing whenever I'm with you, a sly smirk to cause a blush on my cheeks, the same smirk I use to despise on you but for an entirely different reason. But at the moment you are gone, doing god knows what, probably without me on your mind, probably living your life like you use to Happy But me? I am about as dead, lifeless and tired as one of your Burnt Cigarettes
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