what is tomorrow.
when is tomorrow.
i’m ready for a sunrise.
i could break every stick in our yard and still wouldn’t feel better.
it just reminds me of how dry and brittle it all is.
i could burn it all.
what is this and where is my tree when i need it.
raising my white flag,
white flags and broken sticks.
new breaths help but they hurt.
what am i doing.
i feel so thrown and i hate it.