Photo Taken by Supreme Optics Photography
July 17, 2019
Writing back to the summers of hell.
Writing back for the summers I failed.
Booking flights taking off from 28 L.
Looking back for a sun to prevail.
Because my daddy isn’t here.
Most of ours weren’t – no one cares.
It’s hot enough to cry.
OK, so mines died.
Build your own well.
In Portland running to sing for the pale.
They get scared of the anxiety I detail.
Writing to home so the blue is my following trail.
Changing the scenery.
Shining on the greenery.
Dangers in the repeating tree.
Try something new next sun.
You’ll love the times we hated thee.
-Budd