Why categorise people Are we products of our own bias and misery?

The ocean cup that held your poisonous drop made you feel loved.

She sits on the chair and picks up the pie crumbs. She strokes, her hair and, her motormouth says. Did you know?

I rather be alone than have to dime my inner light, dignity and grace in order to suit manipulating standards.

GRACE Is the dignity to expel the opinions and breath and live like the breeze of a cold wind.

Imagination follows me in the sofa, bed, the rain, sun and in a word tempest.