A scurry across the floor, A life of fear, Hoping that nothing is near. Small terror to many I’ve met, Maybe one day there will be understanding. But until the the big worlds, And little worlds, Will set fire to each other.
I blend of the dry grass, And dark bark. A brownish yellow work of art. With grace and oval eyes. The foundation of a forest.
They have captured hearts, And we have captured them. Even the powerful can be canned. All due to there need for food, Of which soul taking is a nesscaity. The pale color a rarity of its kind, There is beauty on the outside, But what is felt within?
Write, Even if you don’t want to. Write, Even if no one sees it. Write, Even if you think it’s probably the worst idea ever. Write, Even if you think it won’t mean anything to anyone. Write, Even if everyone including yourself doesn’t like it. Write,Continue reading “Write”