I stared at it for too long.
Until I left the ground. Guardians with satin veils... watching over my first rise.
Were we meant to be found between the pines or was the fog in charge in the middle of July.
Nostalgia. My sight can only bare green and black. I’m telling you. I’ve witnessed the clock on the wall trying to fight back at times.
Nostalgia. The misery I always desire.