A human thing
people have this habit of being human
But I must digress
because the greates acts i've ever seen
simply havn't happened yet
A tree once told me
the world is but a drop
and find myself wandering
if it ment rain or not?
My hand is but flames
ash that is quickly sewn
because i'ld rather keep this world a lie
then find it all along
This poem is about:
Our world