It’s not pretty


Feeling sick.
Feeling angry.
Inks and poetry are my punching a wall. And music
Music lets me breathe
Especially Trent.

She shines in a world full of ugliness
She matters when everything is meaningless.
(this is the first day of my last days)

It’s not pretty, it’s life.

Still no news if the baby will live or die.

I appreciate hearing from you

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