I thought back to every conversation we had. The only thing she could have had any reason to dislike me was the fact that I despise my father and don't speak to him. But that's no excuse. How many more times is someone going to break my heart and how many more times can I handle the heartbreak?
What's that smell?
Smell like another shitty-ass poem by your's truely coming in the next few days.




--
Phil: You're fat.
*Phil falls down the stairs* Xl
Mir: serves you right! You called me a name!
Me: He didn't call you a name, he called you an adjective!
~~~~~~~~
"For a long while they talked and feasted on the dead clarinet player's carcass."
--
Phil: You're fat.
*Phil falls down the stairs* Xl
Mir: serves you right! You called me a name!
Me: He didn't call you a name, he called you an adjective!
~~~~~~~~
"For a long while they talked and feasted on the dead clarinet player's carcass."
I hope you're feeling better, even if it's only by a little bit. Hang in there!
oh, and do you have any other stories by any chance? I really liked that Egyptian one.
--
Phil: You're fat.
*Phil falls down the stairs* Xl
Mir: serves you right! You called me a name!
Me: He didn't call you a name, he called you an adjective!
~~~~~~~~
"For a long while they talked and feasted on the dead clarinet player's carcass."
--
~ *getLIT ~*WordCount ~ *Adopt-A-Writer ~ *Writers-Workshop ~
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