I'm Andrew.
I'm 18.
I write, and smoke more cigarettes than I'd care to admit.
I live in a fantasy world in my head.
And I don't give an actual fuck.
I love mathematics and all that it has in store.
You don’t know.
Nor do you even care,
my well is half full,
but only with air.
It’s late and my lungs
are gasping for a break,
and my mind is filled
with all the hints and
tricks to help me find the
end of our road.
The end of our lonely roads.
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