It's always a tree.
I don't know why,
It just
Is.
I draw it sprawled out across the skin on my arm.
Sharpies sting on scratched limbs.
But at least I can trace it and remember how much I've grown.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
It's always a tree.
I don't know why,
It just
Is.
I draw it sprawled out across the skin on my arm.
Sharpies sting on scratched limbs.
But at least I can trace it and remember how much I've grown.
Request permission to use this poem