It’s there you’ll find me. Beneath the rubble of my shattered dreams. Piles of pills and tinctures galore, all to ease the pain of the day. It’s there you’ll find me, mixed in paint and whsipers, scattered in the words spilled so carelessly aross the canvas of my life. It’s there you’ll find me sleeping under the old oak trees, dreaming of you and a gentle warm breeze. All you have to do is come find me… The end.
Lovely but sad words, Benjamin. I love the picture.
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