Knapsack full, you keep looking for the last piece.
The missing bone. The fragment.
It pulses, somewhere in the dark, calling to be part of the whole.
The parts of my body, scattered to the ends of the earth in that one moment,
when I was forgotten.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
Knapsack full, you keep looking for the last piece.
The missing bone. The fragment.
It pulses, somewhere in the dark, calling to be part of the whole.
The parts of my body, scattered to the ends of the earth in that one moment,
when I was forgotten.
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