...out of context...
...typed as written...
...written as orated...
You know your fickal.
If this was the sandlot,
your love would be a pickle.
But, Max, my dear....
-your my LITD.
-between you and I:
this is a secret.
And my baby boy, I hope you can keep it.
I have to ash, between me, Max...
I will not throw you in the trash.
My ash will grow, so will my love for you, ya know?
I'm out of thoughts =w= makes my bran distraught.
So becomes my sweater. Tear it off?
I BETTER! because my true love lies
a million miles away, and with him, I've got to stay.
END. FIN.
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