Writing

Let me go back to the mountains 
Back to the trees 
Back to the forest who once mothered me 

You’re something like a bright star, shining bright above the world while everyone sleeps. I stayed up every night, admiring your glow, wishing I could be as bright as you.

Why must memories never last?

Are they nothing but the past? 
Or maybe they are just there to grasp 

Grasp for the moment not the hour 

Until they stack like a tower 

I am from the cold conditions 

The conditions you can’t feel your hands where the wind whistles and wipes 

I am from the rocking sea witch provides comfort when need be 

Whispers travel in the halls at school

Weaving into people's brains

And people decide whether they like

What is going on

In a split second

You’re something like a favorite song. A song someone loves so much that they’ll sit in their room for hours just listening to this one song.