With good intentions,

I’d like to tell you,

how the plot thickens,

As this story,

Makes its way to the golden globes,

i wanted every spot mistakenly,

Pimpin’.

No one gets glory to a thought of depression,

For though it carries,

A justice scale,

Falling up and down,

like happy feet,

Dancin’,

in air-thick conditions,

To reap the blessings of the howling wolf; to sow the freedom with every blow; to a perfect huff.

Like my hands will land,

on a pen to pad,

because the inside of my closet started a lap to close in.

There was the cold floor that kept my fears warm,

then…

When I thought of a title to The End.