a broken plate with shards of glass that sticks to the soles of my feet. a crying child with empty tears that stick to his rosy cheeks. a temper without hesitation that twists the insides of myself. a patient hand with tiny cuts that twists when picking up glass. and it was all just a moment with angry breath and a tired child.
About Me
- Manda
- I'll say what I always say: I walk through grass, not on concrete. I listen to music, not radio hits. I watch films, not television. I make art, not junk. I love beautiful people, not beautiful faces. I am me, not you.
No comments:
Post a Comment