Did the trees know you passed away on their branches?
Do they remember the blood and all the car crashes?
Do they feel agony seeing the world when they are unable to move?
How much do they witness? Could their voices be proof?
Do the people cut them down for resources or silence?
To shut up the quiet because their lack of speech is not a sign of reliance.
The insects on the wall have been the only who witnessed
My father fixing the wounds just to reopen the stitches
He was a doctor who played the part of a surgeon
Removing my spine and replacing it with false reassurance
While the men who die on his operation tables
Get pretty stories to cover up gruesome fables
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YOU ARE READING
Accepting what I cannot
PoetrySynopsis After years of unresolved trauma, I have decided to write a book consisting of poetry that I have written in some of my deepest moments of self-reflection. Some bittersweet, others uncensored with raw emotion. I mention both the strugg...
