Has The Troth came to Me or I've just turned by My face?

Havin' the rage, stage's smack, got often feeling i'm late. But sweets and weakness have so gratefullness and taste. Let Me to say. You make Your own day. So fuck with that prays I depend on as realy as whore with no any claims. But every time I meet this all I disperse on a sends And all is left after Me is bared lazy burnin' thwack. Frankly to say I'm fully truthless to Me with this baseness in face. So this is second to rescue self in sways in Ma ass. Just gotta brake trough these staled pose with even shaking of hands. Who am I? - hint flashes at the back of Ma head, but flaring eyes, hands in a deeds give Me answear on that. I'm just a regular Man who moves at this boundless test. And even dranky Mommies won't put Me ever in sag will there even thousands of 'em, as lot as 'at slags placed around witch from i'm hardly tryin escape in fact. All I have iz only the step against any impact.
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