“The summer continues to make me wonder. So my head, boiling like a pot, will never cool. With the heat. With the cicadas buzzing. With the twinkling of the myriad stars floating in the sky.”
000
“The summer continues to make me wonder. So my head, boiling like a pot, will never cool. With the heat. With the cicadas buzzing. With the twinkling of the myriad stars floating in the sky.”
“To have a name. To remove one layer of the unknown. To be painted in reality. If you have your feet firmly planted to the ground, you may have a chance to pull someone down.”