what a rite time when all crashes in all.
walking in the dark; no one knows what happen. passerbys come and go but how u wished someone could stay to walk u thru. at least it wont be so bad.

pretedence; carry on with it, all the way thru. fine; nt fine. it doesn matter anymore.
its all bout time.

if u dun feel lky coming home;den dun ever come back again
dun take this place as ur hotel;and come and go at ur own leisure.
she's been great, remarkable;i wonder how she endure it all
but tt doesn gif you the rite to vent everything on her.
she's nt ur venting machine; mind you.
grow up a little wont you.

u're happier this way. im fine with it.