You ask what I want.
My fingers find our future.
I point. Do you see?
I point. Do you see?
My future, in your fingers.
So fragile. So clean.
So fragile. So clean.
Afraid of muddy moments.
No immune system.
No immune system.
Locked away. Must keep us safe.
Can we survive this?
Can we survive this?
I ask. You ask what I want.
I want forever.
I want forever.
We swallow mud and grow strong.
We can survive this.
Leave a comment