(tides, tides, tides)
I am singing the same song of a thousand girls before me. I am the rock hiding amidst eight million other rocks. I am peering from behind the tree trunks at what once was, and telling myself that I will be safer and happier if I would just keep on walking... yet I can't stop looking back. I am trussed up in cinnamon dental floss with flowered celery, herbs, and onions. I am trying so hard. I am losing the faith.
I need an ocean to remind me that
flying is still my means to an end.