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HalfThese apron strings tied around my wrists are stained, burned, frayed: I am not the first.Half
"I will not make those mistakes," I had said, "I am not that stupid." The first mistake of many.
We are, all of us, bruised by our naiveness, destroyed by our arrogance.
Our minds were churches once, we would sit, complete in ourselves. Now, all that's left: a statue,
crumbling under graffitti, spat on.
And we allowed it.
by ~seanna
The Cityby ~paperboogie
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