What reading is to meWhat reading is to me,Is what also makes me breathe,For all I breathe,And for all I see,It makes me wonder.I’ll never forget my first,I still remember the feel,It taught me more about relations,Than all these silly complications,And all these little frustrations in the world,Than I ever could have thought,There are some I’ll never forget,But you can forget the rest,1984 opened up my mind,I then saw the world in a whole new light,How it was trying to trick me,And make me realise all the lies we’re toldAnd how expression was punishment,George left me meaningless,I couldn’t get my head around the con
Charity StoreI had planned to go to this charity store down the street today,I had a black bin bag in one hand and my purse in the other,And another thing I could tell you is I forgot my lipstick,I was also missing a button my blouse,But I couldn’t turn around, because there was something soon to discover,The rustle of the bag was distracting me,Against the wind it would billow for minutes on end,This would give me a constantly giving migraine,Adding the chug of a train, the crank of a crane building to my right,For which I could then not obtain to my brain to make it stop,And once again, the wind was not my friend when it blew of my hat,
deep blue=> fantastic...