Hey there, Hating somebody is not love.

A bouquet of Daffodils in a spring vase.
Echoes of all the springs past.
Water gurgles from the ground
lambs spring from place to place,
a small child bends and effortlessly
plucks a Daffy Dill.
The stem pops and she coats her nose
like a juggler with a spoon,
with Daffy Dill Dust.

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Instead of things I’m good at, it might be faster to list the things I can’t do. I can’t cook or clean the house. My room’s a mess, and I’m always losing things. I love music, but I can’t sing a note. I’m clumsy and can barely sew a stitch. My sense of direction is the pits, and I can’t tell left from right half the time. When I get angry, I tend to break things. Plates and pencils, alarm clocks. Later on I regret it, but at the time I can’t help myself. I have no money in the bank. I’m bashful for no reason, and I have hardly any friends to speak of.

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Permalink truxtondogyuun: DO NOT REBLOG THIS POST IT APPEARS AS IRL GORE ON YOUR BLOG
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Permalink dotty-box: Me: Why are these frozen..?  My little bro: They needed to cool down Me: What? Why? My little bro: Because they’re hot wheels.
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