Once we die, we'll become a statistic. It won't matter what we were called.

~If the threat of eternal damnation is the only thing keeping you from being a ♥♥♥♥♥♥ person, you're already a ♥♥♥♥♥♥ person.

" A savior, banished from his childhood, destined to roam alone in a world that doesn't remember him."

~Poem : Golden Sponge Cake ~

Golden sponge cake,
filled with cream,
baked in factory machines,
plastic wrapped
and stacked up here.
Shelf life of five hundred years.
Bombs are dropped
and germs are spread.
Everyone we know is dead.
But no matter
the hard times we've had
at least the Twinkies won't go bad.