My friend wrote a poem about Lindsay Souvannarath,Heritics on Holiday and is going to send it to her. -

[Maiseisinthetea]

Plans require too much,too little energy,I took things down just a little too late,I'm not familiar another chase of place and misery,I didn't really have to do this,,I didn't have to try and stay up late

When did jokes become more important?,never giving yourself away,never really knowing what the body looks like,doing more than this,never really present in a meeting anyways

I want to live in Silent Hill,I want to breathe in a crashing Skyrim,trying to be bored, changing how you're reacting too,no more questions,avoiding it all entirely too with without one less lesson

to do something wrong In Canada,to fail at more than life in love,trying not to do worse either,trying to be glad it was and wasn't good enough

More exciting this never known,can't be helped by the color that the window makes,mistaking more and taking more than inspiration, understanding,misunderstanding, take,take, taking back what it really takes in jamming.

 

[Jaded Optimist]

Your "friend" is retarded.

 

[whatever I feel like]

You call THAT a poem?

Send this instead.

Oh Kiwi Lindsay, hallow’d be thy name.
To doting parents, you have brought great shame.
Unwanted by hot males, love is not for thee.
Your own quest for romance, was spoiled by acne.
And so you teamed with another spa-urge.
To enact a Canuck V-Day purge.

Now if this were a show or film,
You would have fall’n in love with him.
And abandoned that horrid plan.
Having found a suitable man.
But life is not quite like Hollywood.
So at the border instead you stood.
And for years now you’re locked away.
For the betterment of societ-ay!

 

[Trappin in the Trap]

This would be way less retarded if you just said you wrote the poem yourself.
At least own your failings.

 

[Maiseisinthetea]

This would be way less retarded if you just said you wrote the poem yourself.
At least own your failings.

It's called world building thank you.