Ever have days where you gotta go to work, but would really rather just tomahawk anyone who crosses your path? I'm having one of those, only kinda though. Maybe I'll throw a shoe instead of a tomahawk.
"Pomegranate seeds stream from their eyes as you bound through their closed doors. If God himself wants me to fry what's left in life worth dying for?"-Randomly found this in an old notebook of my crappy angsty poems. Wisdom behind the crap.