We cannot change what was always there, even if we tried to fool ourselves it wasn't.
This poem only available on Lush Stories . If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen. In the mirror, light falls softly, Tracing channels down my face. Beauteous dreams will never come true; They are lost without a trace. What seeds were grown when worlds were safe? What plants could softly grow and bloom? For now the daylight breaks so gently, Bitter petals...Read On