EggshellsA Story by Siren
Out from underneath the rocks, I squirm my way to the top. The surface is better than the depth. Up here the sun shines; the air is clear--until you come again, turning the ground to eggshells--and I'm afraid for my life. Crack, Crack, Crack. Does it always have to be this way?
© 2012 SirenAuthor's Note
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Added on March 23, 2012 Last Updated on March 23, 2012 AuthorSirenAboutWell....if you must know, I (sometimes) live in the real world. I love listening to music because it lets me breathe. I love laughing because it lets me live. I love writing because it lets me (almost.. more..Writing
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