Flathead

Music box toiled and free

Twinkling stars pull their dim crescendo like a blanket spread over a waiting hug

Wait for me

Pondering is the same as falling

Flat on purpose

Weaving through tragedies locked up to die

Believe it is however it shouldn’t have been

Because that’s all it ever is

Freedom isn’t being a flower in the wind

It’s swinging an axe until you learn not to cut anything down