the ocean
Apr 12, 2017
1 min read
Overflowing with rusted feelings of sunken ships resting in a deeper sea embodying both dream and despair on its waves, traps made of mostly rowdy fear or illusions catching a different shape for each person who is timidly approaching the cliffs and looking down on its whimsical beauty while yelling against the sturdy wind, hoping to find the bravery of challenging fortune We used to go there every summer but all it’s left is a memory under an iceberg at the bottom of the world
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