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Jan 2018
I rest my body on the wood
And my words take root
Seeping down into the carpet and through the cement
Into the dirt beneath.
Give into the illusion that I’ve blossomed
Forth from the ground
When I’ve merely rooted myself in place
Where thoughts repeat themselves and memories tell lies.
Heartbeats pound and anxiety blooms into a powerful existence.
Like a flower, I wither under dark clouds.
Like a flower, I am temporary.
Briana A
Written by
Briana A  24/F
     ---, Yann and Katelyn Billat
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