I was an imagination left behind.
Scribbles of hopelessness and fear.
Carry me in your palm, like the suns beaming on my heart
Running dog from a red laced river, and the brilliant red of fall.
Little pickle, little morsel,
Let me carry you in my pocket for all eternity.
Real is never fun as fantasy.
The clouds are never blue,
The grass forever green.
Its imitations would never be like the actual doll!
No matter how hard I tried.
black and white is not always dull,
Sometimes it is more meaningfu.
Why does this always end with a dick?
Casper is not so friendly anymor.