
She was like a hummingbird in flight. Wings at a constant, graceful, Perpetual motion of emotion. Never adhering to one fixed point, Or a solid, singular purpose, Because if she had stopped Moving at any second For any given moment The world around us as we know it, Would cease, Would plummet, Concave upon itself Crushing under its own weight Into a vortex of oblivion And that would be the end of it.Todos os Direitos Reservados
1 capítulo