People are rivers,
ever changing,
ever flowing,
they will disappear
with everything
you put inside them.
No,
They are not homes,
not stable,
not able for you.
You may
miss the person
who was
an almost to you,
In a way that
makes you tired
to your bones,
and turn your feelings
ghost for you.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts
PoetryProse and poetry~ Because that is somehow the necessity of life after fiction.
