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

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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