Muse in the Morning |
Time for a break from poetry…in order to create some art.
I was an onion, layers and layers and layers under a thin, papery skin. If anyone had been able to cut me open, my bitter, irritating juices would have stung their eyes, and they would have cried. Although I couldn’t cry myself, much at the time.
But no one would cut me open. –Crescent Dragonwagon |
Splash of Color 4 |