There's a mustard-like stain on my white shirt.
Those bouncing mirrors of crimson and bottle-green on my earring are speaking to me- "beauty is only skin deep. Use me, you need ornamental beautification"
I have a small cut on my lip because I bit my nail to uneven-ness and decided to scratch my lip. Karma, methinks.
I harbour warped notions- describing my surroundings in a self-deprecating manner might bring about a creative brainwave within me.
What am I going to with half baked thoughts and half formed words?
Come on, creativity. Where have you walked away, leaving me with the incorrect spelling of inspeeeration?