My head is a cage full of ideas. But the prettiest ones with the brightest feathers, flutter around too fast. They slip between the bars and fly away. I'm not sure where they go, but I suppose they go where all great ideas go.
YOU ARE READING
FLIP-SIDE
Poetry❝ my heart runs wild with words that shouldn't escape my lips ❞ [[my process of healing//started feb. 13th, 2016]]
