ok, ok
i never had wings, only feathers & i cried like a baby when they left me. & i bled everytime somebody touched.
ok, ok
i wasn't beautiful, not even in the golden light, does it really matter anyway? we all get swallowed
eventually.
YOU ARE READING
vi passar i tanken
Poetrynej jag håller inte kvar vid gamla känslor, jag har bara inte hittat några nya än
