I turn my back on the convoluted and toxic patterns of this world, slash a new path through the forest,
dig out fresh clay and mold it to the contours of my soul,
blow life into it,
whittle delicate filigree to its uneven surface
while rain keeps pelting down on me and
washes away the debris of the past.
- InscritFebruary 15, 2015
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Histoires par I.M. Ivan
- 4 Histoires Publiées
Finding North
48
4
1
There's a force driving my every action that is beyond my comprehension. What I've been waiting for is drawin...
Keep Running...
22
4
1
" 'I only have half a mile to walk and I texted my dad to come and pick me up. I don’t know how you mana...