memories |
Bitter memories golden apple trees
Whatever seems closest is always the farthest...
Remnants of a fire
Black charred landscape...
Wings taken
Legs broken...
Broken wings can be bandaged
Fallen trees can be restored...
Sadness is a song
Anger is a poem...
Loneliness is being the last one standing |
Charity is like a glass of water to fill up another you have to empty one of your own |