"A promise is a broken word.
The saddest story ever heard:
Left right from home and ripped to shreds.
for friends and mother to sew together,
but they didn't need the machine.
Only gentle hands can heal."

TL;DR I'm in gay baby jail because the Karma Police finally caught up to me and now I'm paying for it. Fret not! If you have a commission from me pending, I'll still do it, but at the moment I'm in recovery after essentially whatever metaphors you can pull from my bullshit poetry. Self deprecating humour isn't a sign of weakness in this case though.

You keep me sane in my darkest days and that's all anyone ever needed.

Thank you.

G