For me, the Sun had always been nothing more than a fragment sliver of a waxing crescent Moon in the middle of Winter.
But then,
I met you.
-D.O.
YOU ARE READING
Through Weathered Eyes
PoésieThis book will contain poetry, prose, musings, and songs. Throughout a life of consistent chaotic circumstances, one's mind must manipulate mechanically to adapt. These words are what is heard between the creaking of the gears. There is no theme or...
