I'm halfway down your spine- ready to reconcile my non existent faith in you.
I'm done hiding from the stupidity I call my brain, but what about the writers out there?- they expect me to shine brighter than a star in a dark, shadowy, black night sky.
I'm a poet, just look at my name.
"White Mountain" if you don't understand Spanish, but to my old friends it means "Beast."
Not like a lion, tiger, or bear but like Kobe Bryant or Kevin Durant- there's no messing with my three.
I'm in your mind yet your tail-bone says hi like a boomerang- slapping me twice as it returns.
I HAD faith in you, but what goes up must come down, right?
My mental state isn't so great, but I wouldn't call it severe.
You're all that I can see, so does that make me insane?