adeline (rowie)

“where am I to go? ” crowded alleys, it's end of the road. making memories as it retire from sight, an idea to be stored for a book only you know that is fresh from life. lies do travel faster than the truth, they look away and gone the precious youth. it's good to remember except when no one else does, folks may have painted you but as you surmise, you're good as gone. dolorously, you're only a dreamer who live in an unfortunate one. but pleiades, when you plea, you were freed just to circle around. and so you live, without us knowing. nearly not.