Jul 2013
It's one hell of a cold night.
If bears were awake, they'd migrate.
My bed's warm, but it's only me in here,
wandering through thoughts not worth remembering.
I know I'm lucky to have survived this long,
but it doesn't always feel like it.
If bears were awake, they'd migrate.
My bed's warm, but it's only me in here,
wandering through thoughts not worth remembering.
I know I'm lucky to have survived this long,
but it doesn't always feel like it.
Written in March of 2013. It was cold, and I was getting tired of it.
