Fly Little Bird
Fly little bird. whose eyes are the stars. whose wings are my scars, yeah. Fly little bird, whose flight is the wind. a tremor within. the bulging clouds. -------------------- I said tomorrow.
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Fly little bird. whose eyes are the stars. whose wings are my scars, yeah. Fly little bird, whose flight is the wind. a tremor within. the bulging clouds. -------------------- I said tomorrow.
Every Pot has its Lid, it is said, and some pots have the wrong lid, I agree, but I am a pot that has never had that lid.
A fascinating creature, household name to all Distinct in his glorious golden pattern of striped awe, Eyes shine like sapphire, A mighty large yawn, Perched from a height, retracting his claws, This...
Crawl. Into the corner. Into the small corner of the wall where no one can see you and you do not exist. Climb quickly. Climb quickly to the top.
In front of a fire, coffee in hand, The man, he sits and thinks and plans.
A programmed story on which it's reader decides to turn the pages. Every syllable, a beat of the heart, every word, a breathe, every chapter, a day, every book, a lifetime.
So she loves lemonade soda. Drinks nothin but. Soda pop cereal and soda pop tooth brushing. Soda pop to down those dolls and soda pop to drown them too.