(no subject)
Must the winter come so soon? Must the memories fade so fast? That we continue to relive them, thinking them new, imagining progress? Yet they come again and again and again. Cycle. Wheel. Up down east west. Why do the laws of physics throw me off? What if I were- off- alone?- well, at least away from everyone else on the wheel. Does someone else live off the wheel? Oh, excuse, I didn't mean it that way, the wheel is not our daily bread, yet I DO think the addiction is deadly. Please, somebody, show me the way. Out
Maybe it's the rain...
Maybe it's the rain...