qoute
i want to grow up but my soul
doesn't seem to be very excuted about it.
maybe she's lying.
she's just a soul.
one day she says " get up lazy duck! you have to live your day proud and loud!"
but another day she wispers, " so tired, can we just stay at home all day?, call in sick, write an ugly poem, and be busy being invisible?" ,
i can't control her.
i'm just a body
she's the thinker.
she's so inconsistent and always
has this thirst for attention
and celebration for herself
she makes me busy seeking for distractions. she never counts me in her future plans, she's
to busy shouting meaningless motivational
sentence or killing my confidence
in a very low whisper, like wind in
december,
" you 're not good enaugh "