we are nothing but loose pages.
chaotic, crumpled, scattered, alone.
when a gust of wind blows, we fly with it.
we spin in the air wildly, flying from place to place.
we have no choice in where we land,
we just land.
and we sit there, shivering silently, until...
another gust of wind comes, and then we fly once more.
all we want is a paperclip.
some sort of an anchor.
togetherness.
a plan.
though we love the cool breeze,
we also love shelter.
and some balance would be nice too.
No comments:
Post a Comment