dear. you are my death.
born of heartache, born of love…
i wish to forget.
debt, the masters score-
slaves to time and duties woe
of black circumstance.
dupes are getting more mainstream now; which i’m not entirely sure on how to feel exactly.
there are some who, admittedly, do it better but if you have the capacity to improve a formula- just make your own.
guess this is a sign i should be placing my attention and efforts elsewhere.
if you can’t even pull the effort to try- that enough is a message even i can pick up.