When i was crying
I felt weak
And I detested myself for it
Which made me cry, again.
It's the devil's circle
Craving infinity.
Until it hit me,
You have to be vulnerable to grow,
being strong is being vulnerable.
Because our tears are the liquid,
the water that helps the flowers
in our garden grow.
Grow out of the dirt there put it
To rise above it,
To feel the warmth
Of the sun,
Of the happiness
Tickling and softly stroking our bare skin.
YOU ARE READING
the poetry of my soul
PoetryA book of heartfelt collections of shortliners and sincere poetic letters to other souls or my own.
