Posted in love, poetry

Dry

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Dry I was so used to feeling soggy, soaking wet underneath cascades of gray, shoes weighing my feet, filled with the water collected from my head to my toes that I couldn’t fathom another existence. It rained everyday until it didn’t. —Leanne Rebecca

The sun will come out tomorrow, and when it does, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

–Leanne Rebecca

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Poetry and music.

2 thoughts on “Dry”

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