I am flesh and bones,
not pebbles and sand on shore.
I refuse to be washed away by your waves;
to be picked and thrown to where you think I belong.
I am flesh and bones.
YOU ARE READING
These are thoughts born under the moon's glow; when sheep has run out, and sleep's a child playing hide and seek with the mind. Some moonlit verses from a pillow-hugging girl. *PTY | 20 [03.08.17]