I, of the Cacti, Do Declare

I have prickles and sharp edges. I feel exposed in the sun. When I dance too close to the light my back burns. I wish for leaves, for something to cover myself with.If you come too close, I'll stab you.I am a desert dweller, always thirsty, always waiting for water, for rain. You could believe everything about … Continue reading I, of the Cacti, Do Declare