In blue ink splattered
Across blank, empty pages
You found yourself.
In words, in circles, repeated.
Just with the movement of a hand, there is magic.
You write, you touch, you feel.
You hold another hand within you're own.
And here..you held a pen that found you.
Across blank, empty pages
You found yourself.
In words, in circles, repeated.
Just with the movement of a hand, there is magic.
You write, you touch, you feel.
You hold another hand within you're own.
And here..you held a pen that found you.
