My little world in a box .
Papers and books, tea bags_many useless things.
From big dates to yesterdays? tomorrows must divinely make sense .
Like many a little early today, I put everything in boxes, from my drafting paper to my draining thoughts of becoming better the next day.
And now all I have left , is the memory of a thought ;
A thought that once made me_
A thought that once made me better , woke me up before the sun and everyday made me stronger, wiser more beautiful inside.
But it rained on both sides of the crossroad one winter night , and my thought was washed away
Now I have but me to weave from nothing the memory of what I once was, what I once had Uprooting the past to believe and love what my future is made of.
