It was one of those times, for me.
The music of my soul was still going.
Everything else eased its way in.
But I turned a blind-ear.
Music used to be so rare.
Hiding behind sofa cushions.
If could see at my art through a mirror,
I would be a child.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
It was one of those times, for me.
The music of my soul was still going.
Everything else eased its way in.
But I turned a blind-ear.
Music used to be so rare.
Hiding behind sofa cushions.
If could see at my art through a mirror,
I would be a child.
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