Photo by Sergei Solo on Unsplash
I huddle by your
Fireplace, searching for warmth
Only to get burnt
About the Creator
Poppy
poetry in progress
At My Wits’ End
Life is about taking out the trash and calling it trash because you have every reason to. It wasn't meant to be linear, they say. But the times you tried to make it straight led to problems, and you didn’t have the tools to put any of it to use. You don't put your right shoes on the right feet; you put the left shoes on the left feet. The grey hardened slab will trip you up anyway.
By Caitlin Charlton2 days ago in Humans
Comments (2)
This <3
Oh wow, I love this. A full story in 17 syllables. Magnificent. ❤️