Mornings
We can’t escape ourselves, yet everyone think they can
We misunderstand – Over and over again
We seem to miss the fact that we are only now
We are not then nor there so why should we care
About tomorrows morning hair
The question to remain is
Why don't we fear
What is already here
YOU ARE READING
Playing With Words
PoetryJust some poetry and stuff: The words of a young adult with too many thoughts. It might suck, but I don't care. These are my own, sincere words; There is no right and wrong, as they constantly wander through spheres of whom they belong. This is me...
