I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.
Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren
Mood can be as important as sense.
Donโt worry if they say youโre crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. Itโs a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.