superstar10

in this Dead Poets’ Society we run past ourselves, hugging our souls into ourselves, hating what we’re doing to ourselves and still we continue, with scars on our arms and our legs and our hearts. shattered, we are shattered, so tired of playing the game that we made up to keep us safe, a step forward and a step back equals no movement at all, you see, and when those steps avoid cracks to prevent heresy, well, you catch my drift. snow falls over broken bones, freeze-dries them until they are clean and new again, speak nothing but truth and then fall through the sky. I have dreams where I’m flying and the clouds are cryin