it starts with the world singing. stars shining and wispy clouds. birds humming their melodies and watching trees grow outside, it starts with the world singing. this was my silly dream. i’ve left for the sun in the west, seeking comfort among the stars, and darlings i could go to farther than that, go to where i come back finally faded and gone, but this is not the story. speaking of stories, whoever is writing mine, needs to put the damn pen down. i will see wonders at day and scars at night. goodbye for now, my darlings, my loves
im not who you think i am, i might or may not return look at me. a broken piece of poetry devil’s song, lost her words. one day it all runs out. was i ever in your jar, to run out at all? because you ran out so you threw the jar, not being able to feed yourself. what if i was never what was inside the jar but the jar itself?
