Freedom.
I can taste it on my tongue,
I can feel the whispers of it on my skin,
Smell the rosemary aroma it radiates,
All as I hear my name,
Being chanted over the rush of adrenaline,
'Twas a dream,
Because real life was too insipid.
YOU ARE READING
For you
Poetry• For those with invisible wounds • For those with rushed childhoods • For those with forgotten memories • For the trauma • For those that dream • For those that lost someone important • For the selfless • For those with plastered smiles • for t...
