Someone has thrown me in a vortex. My body’s contorting, because I’m afraid of slipping over. Or worse, afraid of having the courage to give up.
I like sunshines and I like tulips. Maybe if there were sunshines in the whirlwind, I could catch them, I would myself paint wings and I would fly slowly through the clouds, like an april-swallow would do. Or maybe if there were tulips, their fragrance could tempt the wind to quiet its fury.
Or maybe I just have to wake up and not to believe in tales. Maybe I just have to look in the mirror and realize that I’m the vortex.. I’m the only one who can calm my own spirit.