How does he know these things?
Ane by he I mean me of course because he was just fishing.
He knows me. To an extent.
And then out the window.
Anywho.
I am writing now to suggest that this is all for nothing.
I like the wind on my face,
(contemplates and chews on stick)
Yes, that's certain.
For him, nothing.
And him and him and him and I try to stop, try telling them all to stop and you know what the result it?
Me,
lying on the ground
looking up into the face of a broken nose and lips shredded between metal and a hard fist.
Fighting for what?
Pride.
Ha.
Fuckers.
It hurts and that's all.
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Submission Name: Submission
