So Many Times I Wanted It To Be Dead

And you can't paint him a laugh his face is a metal curtain with attached sign - no emotions allowed you can't nor you know how and you gladly would breathe life into those cells the same way that life spat in your face acknowledgment of successfully driven tokens at belonging columns and you, men women don't be mad because yours are misplaced all over that ludo board it was a bad, bad idea to implement that rule of maneuvering the game according to rolls of a single die countless thoughts questions from the other side only crystally voiceless visage in the course of the night, a view flies there where ripped breaths on a baby's mattress quieten the trepidation down I'm a bad person I really am but if tomorrow I learn how to smile instead of him maybe my name will get to Saint Peter's list