Today I wrote a short message to someone. I was weary whilst writing, yet offered elegant prose. It was no surprise that I thought of you during said composition. But now as I deprive my self further of sleep, my initial thoughts were that I hoped to be lucky enough to dream of her. Then upon a sad realization of an impossible future, I cling to thoughts of her. Then, as if hearing a documentary; "speaking his lonely woes to anyone he thought might listen..." I reached for my laptop in order to send you an email. What is that? Why are these things so impossible for me? I am not asking for an answer, but still want to ask.
Although this you can answer; How are you?
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If I were Looking for trouble I'd kick it in the sack. I am so far beyond that.....
I've actually morphed into trouble