I have carried the same back pack nearly everyday for almost two years now. Only one person has asked me what was in it, I didn't know what to say. So, I told him magic.
I lied, I have no magic. I have pens, paper, money, condoms, and treasures. But no magic.
Not for you, not for anybody. I have no sense, no hold.
I don't control much, but that won't stop me from trying.
My boyfriend is Ray Charles, in a hat. Does that make sense?
Yes, it does.
As for a parent beating their child, well. That happens, and no good man in the sky will scoop you out of this world and make all the drowning faces leave you alone. The child is going to get beat, until he doesnt anymore. The earth will turn until it forgets how. And my heart will pump until the blood runs out of my body and floats away into the sky.
You can't stop it, I can't stop it either. And since every hero has a secret, and there are no such thing as heroes. Well, neither can they.
So all I can throw is what's left.
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