At the end of the day everyone wants to save the world, but sometimes we can only save one person, even if that person is yourself, it means the world. All rights reserved. 56 followers / 5.2k words
Sometimes I wish I was made of paper To be one and the same with the trees So that someday if it rained I would fold myself into a paper boat And sail along down the drains The raging little river to wash away My printers ink perfume And wilt me way to silt.
Sometimes I wish I was made of paper To be one and the same as the trees My perfume would be of printers ink My face would be traced with lines of quils So that one day when I step out on mars The sun burning with volcanos’ rage My skin might burst into flames Fahrenheit: 451 degrees
The wilderness pushed against the fence Wild green against the rusted links of chain Pushing through Crawling under Climbing over Crumbling down Toppling apart
We all believe the little lies we’re told After all, we all need something to hold So believe the little lies you’re told For if we didn’t, the world then, would be terribly cold