Mask.

Strip off that masquerade,
show me what's behind that disguise.
Is it pure ego?
Or is it just overwhelming pride?
Tell me what's in your head,
tell me if you're feeling red.
Let me into your life,
don't leave me out in the rain.

Uh, I'm displaying what I've learnt during Literature.

(Which is null that's why this poem is crap.)

I met my baby today and I gave him a box of pineapple tarts. It's homemade. I made a batch as well. I gave a box to Bernice too and she loved it.

I am so damn good.

Anwyay I'm going through a rough patch with my hormones now. Don't feel so good. Will update tomorrow.