Youth is invincibility woven into the skin until the moment we fall, scrape, bruise, cut, wound. At the most tender of ages we are repeatedly and firmly reminded of our mortality. Thus, we grow up.
“Intricate chaos of the bygone.”
when you howl your truth when you finally let it tear through the seams of you and it rushes out no one might care no one might listen because most of us were trained to enjoy the lies howl it nevertheless the right ears will always hear you