jakedavidrohde: Give me something, something from you, even if it is a flick of your cigarette, at least I will have the ash to remember you by.
jakedavidrohde: So they laugh at me as I die, looking out my window through the broken glass and steel bars...
jakedavidrohde: Tree and Benches
jakedavidrohde: They walk all over me, as I lay in a pile on the ground, forgotten... Maybe next year.
jakedavidrohde: weathered, as layers peel away so my true interiors shine through... as ugly as they may be
jakedavidrohde: Fortune-Less
jakedavidrohde: Sentiments from the General
jakedavidrohde: They steal our souls late at night
jakedavidrohde: No one waiting. No one watching. No one listening. No one there.