Sophia Rose Walker

she still notice when the branches break? I sit in my crumpled up nest repetition small dirty objects dreaming about how they would taste if I could just fiddle them into gilded

this is all birds-eye view but the larks need no telescope and the crow has at least two twenty zillion trillion thoughts and one throws the biggest fit: fly over, fly over, fly oozes back firecracker taunts of goodbye, goodbye, bye

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