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feathercatch glimpse of a drifting feather weak and vulnerable to every breeze swaying rapidly, unable to rest obediently following the winter's huesfeather
there was this particular child however very different from the others he had shoulders of fortitude and the ambition of great mountains
one chilly morning, he suddenly changed no more gushing for another taste no more fighting for his own way just laid there, still and immovable
why this happened, no one knew could it be of the whirling west winds? or the might of the haunting darkness? maybe
by ~wazmelon
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i just browse stuff on here
not an artist
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