i’m stuck...
writing about past feelings and beginners luck.
running from emotions,
while still holding onto trust
that if life should take its course;
no self-ish motive or care,
there’s nothing wether high or low
that i should ever fear..
-
im learning rhymes heal wounds
but only for awhile,
growing up is tragic  
i may always be a child.
filled on magic
always wild,
chaotic,
misunderstood..
but everything will always come together
as it should.