And
As the
Sun began
To rise
I yet
Again
Had no
Conception of
Time
:everyday feels the same and i don't know how to make it stop
- ray .
YOU ARE READING
the book of poems
PoetryThe feelings of an author ,buried deep inside to bleed out on paper
No Conception
And
As the
Sun began
To rise
I yet
Again
Had no
Conception of
Time
:everyday feels the same and i don't know how to make it stop
- ray .
