Indefinite

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The reason for my writing is the feelings you inspire. the malice, depression and overwhelming desire to kill this anxiety where it stands and my weapon is the sword the good lord put in my hands. its brittle and absolutely useless. the only reason you fight back is to defend the ends with unjustifiable means. dropping guilt-bombs on the grey wrongs and the pop songs with the cuss words. but give me proof. show me why you're right and I'm not. they say the shortest distance from point a to b is a straight line and I'm too crooked but the way i see it, I'm the only one looking to go the extra mile.





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