VampiretteKnight

Dysfunctional transendental mediocrity. Broken heart torn apart too blind to see. Intellect with regret such tragedy. Unrelated much debated stolen memory. Who's to say you'll see the day I became me? There's no time to borrow no tomorrow no sensitivity. You can't expect me to check the person you'll be. No one left to blame such a shame the negativity. I wish you'd pretend to let me mend your prosperity. But who's to say you'll see the day I became me?

Confessions of a Pyromaniac Tick tock. It's 7:50 p.m. and the cold, damp smell of a hard day's work is wafting through the air. Families are winding down, all curled up on a couch watching television for the rest of the night because they can hardly think of anything to say to each other besides, "Can you pass the remote?" You're back at home, all alone with the lights off and you can't help but think is it just me, or do I smell something burning? The television plays until the power goes out and families are shouting their protests. Their precious distraction from the harsh reality has been taken away. Like a drug addict, craving for co