The morning comes and I sit as patiently as I can for the arrival of leaving time.
The birds goad me from outside the half open summer window and I am fearful that they may breach the boundary and cross over into my mind for good this time.
I cannot control the coming of thoughts like I once could, and I have never felt quite so cold with the summer sun on my flesh.
The birds goad me from outside the half open summer window and I am fearful that they may breach the boundary and cross over into my mind for good this time.
I cannot control the coming of thoughts like I once could, and I have never felt quite so cold with the summer sun on my flesh.