There was wind in my rib-cage.
An analytical force of chaos roaming in the empty spaces that held me together.
In all honesty I am to blame.
I've chosen to be stubborn despite the concrete facts.
Same old, same old.
Once, in a wonderful day time fortune, I will balance the dark and the light.
Maybe then the weight of the past won't be do obviously mounted.
I am learning to write from a place of honesty instead of desperation.
The light that filters through. The light that past.
Straight lines confused for direction.
Dust adorning the path.
- Clementine Anne Strachan
Comments
Post a Comment