insignificant thoughts and rants manifested in the simple musings of an adolescent with time on her small uncultured hands.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A scientific breakdown for words unheard.
So my words decompose, like rotting leaves. Leaving fumes of distrust and decrepid consonants. At the bases of trees, the piles fester. Much like apples. A summer's harvest Gone awry. They mean nothing.