Sometimes I think I've grown,
But then the wind blows right through me
And I'm a child again.
YOU ARE READING
Remorse, Regret, and Those Things I Cannot Forget
PoetryThere are monsters inside me which I have let roam free for much too long.
Inner Child
Sometimes I think I've grown,
But then the wind blows right through me
And I'm a child again.
