There's this ancient quaking,
I've become accustomed to,
When my soul trembles
And the rivers rage inside.
I stand there sometimes,
Waves washing over,
there's no tears left to cry,
If I let them fall tumbling downwards,
I wouldn't be the person
Who let you go,
I wouldn't be the person
Who knew you'd be happier,
I wouldn't be the person
I've broken down barricades to become.
YOU ARE READING
Notes To You
PuisiWords that fill my brain, while I lie staring at a bright screen, with a red filled arrow beside your name.
