“But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
– Yeats
I set up this page as a therapeutic tool at the beginning of my recovery.
First to empty my head of all the thoughts and memories which kept me up at night.
Then as a space to process my emotions through poetry.
Press the buttons if you’d like to support me. Or don’t. It’s w/e.
Anthropologist Astray 
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