You live in an apple tree.
Candles lead you back to sleep.
Owl's wake you when dreams are unsafe, and sunshine drips upon your plastic face.
Sipping slowly at the shallow pond.
Passing glances back and forth to the others among.
Wander back to your sickly home
It sure is nice, being a gnome.
About Me.
- Emma Cherry
- In a yellow sumbarine, Liechtenstein
- We must blend into the choir Sing as static with the whole. We must memorize nine numbers and Deny we have a soul. And in this endless race for property and Privilege to be won. We must run, we must run, we must run.
