people I know are really good at poetry and I’m reblogging them (most likely against their will [sorry])
dead lullabies echo in the mold on these walls
tiny peaks and valleys, living and breathing
sounding love into the void
we were meant to be in this shack for
a reason
a damn good reason i suppose
Anonymous:
HOW DO I FIND THE MOON?
HOW DO I FIND THE MOON?
Me:
I suggest looking up. The sky is there.
