The Future

Sometimes I feel like I have fucked up my own future. That some of the choices I take will alter the days that are to come. I’m planting seeds of despair, sadness and hatred… I will harvest dry flowers, rotten fruit and weeds. The sun never shines over my garden, the water has never touched its soil. That’s not an orchard that you see… it’s a graveyard. I buried all my past selves there. Like a snake, I shed my skin every spring. I try to get rid of the parasites and grow. But I am afraid I might grow too much and I will be obliged to swallow my own tail. Once I finish my meal, I will enter a void. I’ll be the uncreated once again… forever waiting for another chance to be something ethereal on Earth. 


COPYRIGHT Oceauxnic 2017 


Author: Georgia

writing is my medicine

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