My heart is sore,
my spirits poor.
My love is empty,
my hate is full.
My eyes are leaky,
my mouth is dry,
my body is running on fearful fuel.
My mind sets on fire when my dad tells me about shopping for an engagement ring.
That is what happens, right?
You decide to get married, you buy a ring and then get married.
It's a symbol of a promise.
A promise made when your heart agrees with your head.
But how do you rearrange your heart, more so, your priorities?
Practice makes perfect I suppose.
Well bloody freaken' hell
-M
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