Under the sky, where I normally stand,
I counted the number of lines on my hand
It took me a while to acknowledge each one
but at least I felt comfortable under the sun.
Then later that night, standing out in the mist,
I counted the number of scars on my wrist.
It was equal to that of the previous night
and I kept it that way for I felt it was right.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
Under the sky, where I normally stand,
I counted the number of lines on my hand
It took me a while to acknowledge each one
but at least I felt comfortable under the sun.
Then later that night, standing out in the mist,
I counted the number of scars on my wrist.
It was equal to that of the previous night
and I kept it that way for I felt it was right.
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