But you can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them.
YOU ARE READING
Words Unspoken
PoetryThere is a community of the spirit. Join it, and feel the delight of walking in the noisy street, and being the noise. Drink all your passion, and be a disgrace. Close both eyes to see with the other eye. Open your hands, if you want to be...
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But you can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them.
