The Last Balloon

16 Nov

It was Halloween. We blew up balloons.

We partied.

It was November 1. We awoke drearily. We packed up decorations.

We popped balloons.

Except one.

You, little balloon.

You have survived.

You have survived pins. Punches. Puppies. Pissy cats. Gravity. Fire at one point.

(I got bored.)

You keep surviving, little balloon.

You fly, little balloon.

[Editor’s Note: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST WRITE?!]

I’m on pretty much every drug.

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