My computer just crashed. Let’s try to channel that anger into some magnetic poetry:
Fumbling toy of rotting fat,
soon you are dirt
that we will never miss.
Will the day come?
Now doesn’t that feel better?
My computer just crashed. Let’s try to channel that anger into some magnetic poetry:
Fumbling toy of rotting fat,
soon you are dirt
that we will never miss.
Will the day come?
Now doesn’t that feel better?