And the light stayed
with me
all night
catching itself in patterns
against
the bare
walls.
No where to go,
no where to run,
nothing in my hands
save for
eternity.
.
.
.
.
It's all poetry.
It's all poetry.
And the light stayed
with me
all night
catching itself in patterns
against
the bare
walls.
No where to go,
no where to run,
nothing in my hands
save for
eternity.
.
.
.
.
