Medicine

Are you locked out of ur heart?

Cause I’m the word smith around this part-ta d-art.

Let me open it right up,

There’s no need for sorrow.

A broken heart is as useless as all the pride that I swallow.

But it’s okay,

I’m bumping willow, sitting under a willow.

The blood stain on my pillow is as starbon as this trip from that pill we took, constant flipbacks and backflips, those I do miss dearly

Mrs.

Silly little girl

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