a hard-worn surface tells the story of life, yet we paint it over
it says “open” but i’m guessing that it is not an invitation
there’s a certain peace you only achieve when in a place you call home
in the end, we are the sum of all our stories make up some good ones
if you stare too long at the exact same thing, can you trust what you see?
i guess it’s harder to think someone is a jerk when they are polite
there are things we see that may not really be there then again, maybe?
the most-used letter in the english language is never used alone
one way that they keep you and me apart is to build a fake divide
sometimes we just know that what we’re doing is not what we’re meant to do
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