Poem
I tinker — sometimesI can fix things that breakOne too many gifts from my fathergenetics instilledNo choice…
Black roses taint Cupid’s bow — lips stitched
Welcome to VR Friends — analysing
I am sorry — system failure
Seven, three, two, five, six, one
Where I am is sometimes a stagewhere nothing is scarier than a voice
I’m used to bouncing
One minute
There will be a point in this story