I’m not to big on first impressions,
words are my forte like a good hearted bad decision.
I’m not well at opening up to others,
but I can convince you that it’s pointless to love another.
My people skills are fine and they don’t
need to be fixed just picked up and rearranged like misplaced kicks.
Conversations, we can have them, but at times I wish I could talk to another me.
I get myself like no other, that’s just me.
My mind is unbelievable because you’d have to live it to get it, but if you lived it you’d wonder why. So you still wouldn’t get it.
I’ll admit that the vision of deception is painted vivid, clearer than the image that life is really giving.
Half decent doesn’t mean imperfect,
it just means there are certain missing leaves.
It’s perfect to be only half decent.