Is this where the river splits?
I was your wind, you were my sail. I was never steering, but you thought I was. My hands were almost touching.
Burying myself into books. Words soothe me. I'm going to be something great, and all of you will reminisce about who you think I am (was). I am breathing on my own and it feels good. I don't need machines.
I need to commit to something that won't turn its back on me once they learn they can stand on their own two feet.
Some need love.
Some need care.
Some need need.
