it was under a cold November sky when it happened/she smelled of fragrant shampoo and a slight hint of mashed potatoes/I don’t usually like mashed potatoes/but today they are my favorite/with lashes fluttering against cheeks/it was a zing/so natur
when I was in fifth grade,
my dog died.
we had her before I was born.
we cremated her.
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Lord, please, send me a message
Being American isn’t taking down your pride flags and cowering as far as you can from the ballot box when there’s no hope anymore
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