Letting the petals of my butterfly,
Fly away with my thoughts,
Where my mind is no longer ready to read,
But my stories know from the beginning to the end,
And the truth behind every petals message,
Where the secrets of us are never just a lie,
That was lost like a mystery ready to be found out from the stories I,
could never just pretend to reach but could only quiet the sounds of,
my mind as I sleep and pretend to read my stories about my thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Book 7 | The missing lock box
Misterio / SuspensoThe missing lock to the key That unlocks my diary Where all of the pages were hidden And now they have gone missing One minute the book was there And the next minute it disappeared into thin air Quite a mystery without the superstition But to...
