By Anjali Nayak
Overhead sounds
Birds on their bounds
Just like my mind
How can I grow if my future is my past?
Seasonal, it happens every time
We’re going south for the winter
By Anjali Nayak
Overhead sounds
Birds on their bounds
Just like my mind
How can I grow if my future is my past?
Seasonal, it happens every time
We’re going south for the winter