The night was cold and dark Heavy rain in the park and A lost boy couldn't sleep With a sigh and a fright He wished for the sunlight Then counted sheep in his sleep.
I swirl the stress, turn pirouette in my veins. It is fuel for my fire. I breathe in, out. shallow, yet crisp the smell of burning leaves on a brisk autumn day.
To hate someone is to heave a thousand mountains with bare palmer creases. It is to sip poison first, just to test its sting, it is to fall into a field of thistles banging'.
The sun says nothing, yet the world answers- warbling, chirring, tweeting. The sun opens me like a door each day and the moon is my final exit- and between these two i'm kept.