Sentences and periods are just like you, running on and never-ending, you're never making sense with anything you ever want to, random words you're just pretending (credit cards and costly wars are just like you, running out and always spending, you're never keeping cents with anything your dollars went to, a perfect world is for pretending
to make up while you go along, but you claim you're not wrong, but I know that all you want is to be heard, and never learn that no answer means no one's listening to
to be innocent with fragments and white out lines covering your faults and your deepest thoughts, but you're so lost and found guilty at the scene of the crime, the police line, calls for caution signs, and streets one way, keeping conversations at bay, so let your fairytales, exaggerate the scale, of truth behind what's reality (real to me)