Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

nobody thinks what I think.

"I was told when I get older all my fears would shrink,
but now I'm insecure and I care what others think."


A knife in his hand,
a baton in his bag.

A gun in his hand,
hidden behind his back.

Like a sparkler sparked off,
like a dart he darted off.


The knife whisked through the air,
hit the guy in his back.
He turned to stare,
taken aback.

The skittles rolled out.
He laughed and shook about.

The more he shook about,
the more it rolled out.


He grabbed the baton all ready for revenge.
He could smell it in the air.
He swore it wasn't the stench
of his screaming despair.

The baton flew across the floor,
It was a clear miss.
It was war,
with a clenched and ready fist.

The gun came first
aimed straight at the head
the bullet shot was unrehearsed
it took moments till he was dead.


Beside him
lay the knife
the skittles,
the baton,
the gun.



nobody dreams when they blink.
think things on the brink of blasphemy.
i'm my own shrink.
think things are after me, my catastrophe.


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