A routine —
and every day, I'll whistle with the owls,
and every day, I'll sit tight to watch the Sun rise,
and every day, I'll sing with the earliest wings;
because every day, I'll throw a wish upon a stars
to not see the Sun;
to not feel the Sun.
(d.r.)
YOU ARE READING
Black & Poisonous
Poesia"She had 50 days left to live. She had 5000 words left to say." A compilation of 50-word poems by a child who longed to see a better future than the one they've set for themselves. Each piece takes 12 seconds to read. #833 - 27/05/17 #687 - 28/05...
