Gold Dust in Dystopia
I can’t remember the first time I woke up to this world, the beginning is as blurry as the sandstorms of the end. The dust of them exhumed the planet, choice and resistance collapsed in to one. Oxygen became thin, now there are very few trees alive, reviving me with apples and fresh breath. I wouldn’t be, without them. Despite full lungs, everything that once sparked the love of my heart is gone.
