My bones stood on their own
long before I was told
that I must crawl.
It is a matter of remembering,
no longer listening for,
the voices in the walls.
whispers do not make wind.
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My bones stood on their own
long before I was told
that I must crawl.
It is a matter of remembering,
no longer listening for,
the voices in the walls.
whispers do not make wind.
No posts