not a day ago, i asked Google if you're just "hair" or if you come with an extra "s" anywhere. (letter in caption) my dear Hair, tell me if you're famished, instead of running away from home like a Vagabond that you're. wherever you go, all you'll earn will be distasteful looks and probably cuss words, to be generous. so, first rule: stick to Me, no matter what. if only i'd locked myself behind bars to stop having qualms about when you'll leave me and wrote you a note everytime i wanted to, you wouldn't have went through what you've gone through. wonder is, i don't find yourself worth an apology now! congratulations! now that 'your' past outlook has blurred into 'our' present bouncy catalogue, you seem to drive more attention than you've, in the years you lived. sorry, existed. did i ever, once in your lifetime, proffered you with an ashet full of opportunities to make yourself better, when you desperately wished to? yes, i've. did i let you through the foyer i've been barricading? yes, once in a while. did i allow you to stay there? no, not at all. that's right. maybe, this is where a sorry-note can be attached.
