childhood: scraped knees and sandpits and unsteady bike rides and stickers on all your furniture and plastic toys and laughter and callouses on your hands from the monkey bars at the park and sleeping surrounded by stuffed toys and bright clothes and stratchy and hesitant handwriting and tripping over words in books and wide innocent eyes and mouths sticky with sweets and ice cream and it's all sunshine and pretty and happy and then you grow up.
YOU ARE READING
broodings
Poetryin which a teenage girl writes about girls, goddesses and other shit. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 2016
