Your soul has grown,
But so hasn't mine
Seemingly along the pigmented,
aging forest,
of despair.
You breathe deep,
Just one leaf,
Among the chipping branches,
Of what you thought was your escape.
You grow.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
Your soul has grown,
But so hasn't mine
Seemingly along the pigmented,
aging forest,
of despair.
You breathe deep,
Just one leaf,
Among the chipping branches,
Of what you thought was your escape.
You grow.
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