Soon before I sleep, I'll think of everything I've done.
A thought of few, little things that was fun.
All the grace that's not worth to be received nor given.
And the love that's seems to be the death of a living.
Soon before I sleep, I'll pray for more artificial happiness.
Even time got sick, I'll ask for a golden soul of forgiveness.
I'll think the earth, whom shaking for my calming late.
But that was my heart, pumping for my coming fate.
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TURTLES
PoésieThis is a compilation of thoughts I have created and grown over my younger youth. A bucket full of randomized downfalls flowing with a young innocent and reckless love. Interpreting life as a fabled fantasy slowly forming paths of footprints in the...
