Recently, as in like 2 minutes ago, I decided to listen to some "emotional music" and write down something that seemed to fit the music. It's a new game I'm playing. Enjoy, I guess. The story is poem is called "Today, I Made a Poop"

"And just like that, they were gone again, in a flash. Like a lightning bolt in many ways; here one second, and then not. but the damage they dealt in their short time present still echoing through your entire body. An aching that can only be matched by a fire in your heart, melting its way into your stomach, through your soul. Wet, cold and isolated in more meanings than one. In my mind, they're still going, stuck in limbo for however long my mind goes on, words repeating in endless cycles like a wheel winding down a foggy road. Sometimes, the words are nice, reminding me of the times I had before their untimely departure. The casual strolls through rat-infested buildings, the corridors of those buildings, the rooms of those corridors and the stories of those rooms. The stories like particles of dust; leaving a lasting legacy of a time once forgotten inside of your body, until it's time for a new story to be told. These stories, like most, have a beginning. This one doesn't. There is only a memory of what started it, then a middle, and what appears to be an end. Can't tell from here, for the future has not yet become the present, and the past has presented future pasts."

Confirmed next gen Shakespeare.

are u shitting me?

KreeG wrote: