cbb623
edges sewn. an aspiration dashed by a mother's worries. negativity. neglect. but how else could things be, if it is all you've ever known. Shoulders cold like bells in the sand
it would seem as though all of us could fit in that line. separating two sides from all other ends. if we all fit there, that is our space, what is everything else? How long does it go on? That space outside of our line