He saw me, he understood me.
Not as broken, but as a writer.
He took the photograph,
he carried the weight with me,
and he promised to stand beside me.
Even in Stick Season,
we are still in flight.
🦋
He saw me, he understood me.
Not as broken, but as a writer.
He took the photograph,
he carried the weight with me,
and he promised to stand beside me.
Even in Stick Season,
we are still in flight.
🦋