Every time I
make a mess,
That poem doesn’t make alot of sense, but coupled with the picture it’s sweet beyond belief.
Where are her wings?
Thom – In the summertime, my wings have a tendency to render themselves invisible, so most people can’t see them. However, in the wintertime, they become much more opaque, so I need to hide them underneath trenchcoats, a la John Travolta in Michael.
Peter – I don’t think I could have put it better. I’m sorry I doubted you, Mikey.
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