Gossip Is The Foul Smell From The

If I Run Or Breathe Too Deep, The Cheap Stitches Holding Me Together Will Snap, And All The Stickiness Inside Will Pour Out And Burn Through The Concrete.

Gossip Is The Foul Smell From The Devil's Backside.

The Stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking Didn't Make Her Skinny, It Made Her Cry.

Write About The Emotions You Fear The Most.

She Turns To Us, Acts Surprised To See Us, Then Does The Bit With The Back Of The Hand To The Forehead. "you're Lost!" "you're Angry!" "you're In The Wrong School!" "you're In The Wrong Country!" "you're On The Wrong Planet!