I can't escape.
I fuck up nursery rhymes. Basically.
This is for my sister, my partner in crime, the best cupcake ever, my best friend.
It's almost amusing to think back on my mistakes.
I can't fix myself, I can't help myself.
I feel like writing a humourous poem before bed okay. Because Dr. Seuss
Written for someone, I hope they see it.
I have no pity.
All these words, you think don't mean anything, and won't do anything. You're wrong.