A half irish brogue wearing disorganised mess.
Tea is the key to this metal heart.
She’s now just a three year memory of being addicted to caffeine, And praying I could tell her all the things I planned on saying. And the coffee stains are a reminder of when I pushed myself into depression; It’s funny how artistic we become when our hearts are broken. And the most sense I can make of this world has slowly transformed itself from being the ink in my pen to being the pain in my heart, in my head.And I never meant to write words that would make people feel like crying,I just never wanted to write a single word where I was lying.