we're so unlike, we could be twins, which does not even make much sins, but that's just how we roll 'round here: shoot from the hip, then pop a beer
let us look deeply into our own blindness, examining deeply everything we can't see; for the sources of our problems are many, but we remain convinced, none of them are us
people who know me, know that i'm a crashing bore; i prate on endlessly -- i'm not quite sure what for -- i cure insomnia, i think, with sentences prolific: and i know some can soothe with words, but mine are soporific
they all called him a monster, for having scales and spikes; then went back to their safety zones of pages, views, and likes but he was not a monster -- he was in fact, refined -- but words can be most harmful when they are least defined
