My skin was wet, my eyes were dry
The sky was crying for me
My head is filled with other words
And gifts I have always heard
I can’t carry this weight anymore
My shoulders will crack and fall
I don’t know how to let it go
It’s impossible to throw
Sometimes I really think I’ve died
Waiting in the cornfields
The highest form of flattery
Is being one’s own grief
- Author: cameron lynne ( Offline)
- Published: May 24th, 2022 12:41
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
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