index | archives | notes Thursday, May. 06, 2004 7:57 p.m. << [ Glue ] >> Every time I hand you my heart, you somehow manage to break it. You'd step on it, neglect it, forget about it. You'd misplace it, abuse it, run over it with a bulldozer [as if it were the little sister]. The ridiculous thing is, all I can do is pick up the pieces and hold my hands out to you whispering try again. But sometimes... once in every thousand thousand times you break it... you'll pick up the pieces off the floor, and tape them back together. Then you'll offer it back to me and mumble an apology. I hate you. I swear to god I hate you. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org