I hate,
how fast,
my mood,
can crash,
like snips of paper,
consumed by flames,
shadows of joy,
whither away,
leaving me empty,
dust drifting aimlessly.
About Me
- Reboloke
- In middle school I dreamed of being a teacher or a writer. By ninth or tenth grade I'd decide both were crazy. Through the rest of high school I tried to figure out something sensible to do with my life, but I graduated still not knowing where I was going. Now I'm rediscovering those middle school dreams, and realizing they're not so crazy....
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