Too tired
to write
Too hungover
to fight
This life
Hangs by a small thread
And at the end of it
Fly’s me
The kite
The life
Flowing
with the wind
And when
that breeze ends
Or the thread snaps
So do I
But while alive
I’d like to see
how high
I can fly.
-C.H.
If I go crazy Will I still be able to take a hold of the moment? Control it and grow it? If every thought plants a seed, Then why...
I watched As the two year old boy Started to slam his mom's cell phone against his head. He must've hit himself four...
She told me she loved me And I froze Starring her in the eyes I wasn’t sure she knew what she was saying I asked, ...
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