The clock on the wall and its incessant ticking Dust drifting from the ceiling It isn’t always so loud some days the fan spins and the breeze blows into the blue curtains It’s not always so loud but it is always ticking -Saschia Jayne Johnson
A place where you can be human.
The clock on the wall and its incessant ticking Dust drifting from the ceiling It isn’t always so loud some days the fan spins and the breeze blows into the blue curtains It’s not always so loud but it is always ticking -Saschia Jayne Johnson