The thought weigh heavily in my head. Running from what lives right in my heart. Every morning I get up to fight another day...she still lives right there; she survives. She appears to be a storm, not the kind you run from. But the one you chase.
The thought weigh heavily in my head. Running from what lives right in my heart. Every morning I get up to fight another day...she still lives right there; she survives. She appears to be a storm, not the kind you run from. But the one you chase.
