Tag: writing

heart.

   My heart …it is strange There are times it is completely still  Silent and disinterested It almost feels untouchable as if it is not even a part of me  And then. Without warning. It opens, and overflows With all the things I was so certain I didn’t feel  And

poison.

   We must stop treating pain like poison. Poison gets in, destroys, cripples, and kills. Pain gets in, destroys, cripples .. And makes space for something new to be built.  It will not kill you; its intention was never to end you but to expand you. 

recall. 

  

War.

I have built so many walls around myself, that not even I can see the way home. I can’t see over the barricades, and barbed wire, and those damn mine fields. I stay wounding myself in a battlefield I created. And only now I see The war was never outside…

Paper and INK

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