Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
The last line “Row, Row, Row, Your Boat.”
“Life is but a dream.”
Really? That’s quite the existentialist mind-fuck to throw in at the end of a nursery rhyme.
I waited patiently for this post
WAIT. ITS NOT ‘LIFE’S A BUTTER DREAM??’
No it isn’t, how long have you thought that?
What the fuck is a butter dream
"i don’t support feminism because i don’t hate men"