The lines swivel on the page leading to winding roads on a path to no where.
As you sit there at your desk chair a faint light streaming from your bedside.
Sheets untouched.
As the thoughts from within no longer seem a dim.
Twenty Seven.
The lines swivel on the page leading to winding roads on a path to no where.
As you sit there at your desk chair a faint light streaming from your bedside.
Sheets untouched.
As the thoughts from within no longer seem a dim.