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Fuck it;)

Word smith an unintelligent gun smith power lives, in the sound between your lips so girls bend your hips just jokes so, Netflix and chill, ...

Tuesday, 17 February 2026

Our reflection.

The streets are alive with the cadence of rain 
and bare feet with memories of lost shoes walking in pain
beating to a hearts rhythm of missing love that carries the blame
searching to feel them again

through the looking glass of our windowpanes 
we look without seeing the hundreds of names 
that pass by with no glory or fame 
just yet another day we think, here we go again.