Nov 2013
I ran away at every age, every year a new destination, armed with a pack filled with not what I needed but what I wanted. I never really went.
I live now with much unanswered, a heart unquelled silver at my center, a song that will bleed me dry. I never really went.
I tied myself to hearts that attached themselves too much, and did not see the world with static that blinds the eyes and burnt my ears. My mother never knew me and I am not scared. I never really went.
I live now with much unanswered, a heart unquelled silver at my center, a song that will bleed me dry. I never really went.
I tied myself to hearts that attached themselves too much, and did not see the world with static that blinds the eyes and burnt my ears. My mother never knew me and I am not scared. I never really went.
