I take a look inside a mirror underneath my breath, I whisper "I see something decent in this mental patient because in his eyes, he looks more alive than me." I look past him, over his shoulder and assume he must be a soldier because in his wake, there's a massive quake where he... Continue Reading →
The Mountains We Make
For having such wide open eyes I sure have narrow perspective Thank you, dear friend for showing me the rest of the picture For revealing the canyon I call an insignificant fissure For taking this grain of sand And showing me a mountain
December Rose 