little bubbles form in my stomach... rising to the top... making me feel sick...
i'm writing this letter to you... maybe you'll respond back... or maybe you won't...
sweat forms on my palms... i try to wipe it away... but it never seems to work...
clicking little buttons... trying to say something... getting sicker by the second...
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knock, knock. a small hand grabs out to the doorknob. a small voice calls out "may i come out?" knocking upon our hearts the inner child of ourselves want out. they want to play. they get locked into the changing of our choices. they need a time to break loose and enjoy life as it is. so when they come knocking, let them out.
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