First Person

I’m not sure if it was a dream, an acid flashback, an out of body experience, or all of those mixed in with a little imagination and a lot of emotional stress. It’s as real a memory as I have right now though. Curled up crying, thinking of myself as that damaged little kid that I have hiding inside of me, I saw myself last night. I’ve always been that wounded child, first person, looking through his eyes. Last night was different though. I saw that little boy crying on his bed. I walked to him as the man I am now. I picked him up. I held him in my arms… and I told him that everything would be okay.

— leest1 —



About Lee Stone -leest1-

The world is changing: Stand for Something. Soporte Para Algo. Independent Poet/Artist. Portland, OR ·
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