I have no idea if anyone will understand what I meant. I'm just that deep (if you haven't seen Beau Sia's 'I'm So Deep' reading, you won't get the irony).
You are not the pine scented air. There's just no way that you're pine scented air.
But I'll settle for a bottle of pine sol and the boy with a beaming smile and an open hand that holds a pen, whose heart leaks ink---palms wide enough to hold the destiny of a million men of greatness.
Guess who just wrote an entire new chapter? Guess who didn't save the damn file?
I can tell from the turn of your lips that you're disappointed in me. Over the years, you've come to expect less. You forget that I genuinely try for you. I would gladly give my heart and soul, hung cut and quartered to your liking---live out life on a crucifixion, if it would mean redemption.
I would like to create beautiful things. I am lovely. I was lovely before you, but I forget that. Because you made me realize my potential, I forget that I was something before you. And now that the beginning is no longer the order of things, I am lost.
G'night universe. Play nice.