Creating to heal the wounds I unfortunately call home.
We run from the shadows of past We run fearing we’re the very last I find solace in other’s happiness while being blind to my own
By Phoenix S.7 years ago in Poets
He told how his name expressed himself in seven letters but how eventually the cycle of life always wins in one form or another
Thunder speaks our names as the skies Give plants their water You used to say my name with your eyes, lashes as lips And they gave me a pure comfort of dizzy stomachs
