I wake, my head and side hurting like hell, and find the tazer's prongs stuck in my stomach. I pull it out and catch it bleeding, swearing, I nod, "Yeah."
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
I nod and sigh, walking into the other room and locking the door behind me. I change into a sweatshirt, just wanting to wear something comfortable, and sweatpants. I walk back and plop back on the couch, huffing.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music. — Søren Kierkegaard, Philosopher & Theologian