335. If you're good at something, never do it for...
We can't spend our lives waiting to live.
I was buried hundred of miles beneath the sea. Pebbles of sand and scars eroding beneath my toes. Stagnant air hanging between the syllables of words left unsaid. The scars of those eroding too. But I hadn’t lost it all yet. Screaming to an audience of one, Etching my name into dead trees, They flew away. Into their cages. They flew away. Because they broke their legs from running. But I still...
Crooked Legs : The Acorn
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