A slight of the hand And I am gone. Forever an outcast, Never belonging to one category. I wander alone, My bells drooping sadly. The bright colours...
Whenever I think of you, It isn't a frown of despair, But a smile. Whenever I see you, I don't collapse like a fool, But grin and continue on my way...
Moods come and go. A person of extremes; swinging from Despair to contentment suggests a typical bovine nature, well, according to some... But I can...