The Sky Is Heavy Like The Lid Of A PanLike one my grandma often use for trap-ping hot and steamy gas within the pot.No strings, but as my legs extend ..
Trapped.What was that world I was dreaming of?The one with crunchy leaves in the fall,The one with beautiful meadows and songs,The one with no sadness..
In your glorious days, you shine so brightyour neck held up so bold.Your feathers, gleaming in the nightyour heart made out of gold.A tiara perched el..