It's like an old, wooden stairwell that lets out a creak every time you step.
Alerting you where you're headed,
as if it was meticulously crafted to track your descent into;
The depths of yourself.
No wonder it gets darker, for what you find doesn't illuminate.
The partial regression, piece by piece,
reduces your desire to retrace your steps from;
Where you began.
I only ever turn around if there's something I forgot at the top.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
It's like an old, wooden stairwell that lets out a creak every time you step.
Alerting you where you're headed,
as if it was meticulously crafted to track your descent into;
The depths of yourself.
No wonder it gets darker, for what you find doesn't illuminate.
The partial regression, piece by piece,
reduces your desire to retrace your steps from;
Where you began.
I only ever turn around if there's something I forgot at the top.
Just jumbled thoughts
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