Some days I am not sure
that I am breathing.
It is only the rising wind
which swells my chest,
and its death
which beckons out my breath.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
Some days I am not sure
that I am breathing.
It is only the rising wind
which swells my chest,
and its death
which beckons out my breath.
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