working class zero

I lost my self in intentions leading me foot before heel into hell. I am my worst impersonator I pretend to be what I think that you want me to be when you’re pretending to be what I want you to be while I am pretending. I got a pocket full of fool’s gold thinking that this will never have to end. When do epiphanies hit us? When do we have that moment when everything clicks these thoughts are making my head sick and I can’t focus on the now I put in the minimum amount of me in every situation and I expect the maximum amount. I can’t let anyone in because I can’t let myself out a stranger with strange ways who’s a stranger to themselves. I smile only because it breaks you. I want to trip those kids who live off anything but cynicism. More than anything I want to be the girl who picks four leaf clovers by the barrel


megs