They say that home is where the heart is,
But they say not to make homes out of people,
This always confused me,
Because if home is where the heart is,
And my heart was with you,
But you can't make homes out of people,
What was I supposed to do?
g.c.g
YOU ARE READING
The blossom of a poet
诗歌Words fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like the spring, beautiful and light, but just like the seasons, the poetry changes, the autumn comes and the words become heavy, falling quickly...
