Existing in the silence,
Chugging down the blues,
Seeking the goddess who separated me from my dreams in split seconds,
To ask If she's happy by taking all my medians of breathing,
There are several cuts on my wrists,
Several papers with my name on it,
Still, I'm in search of the signs which will tell me whether I'm living or not,
Why do my paths ask me the way to home,
Since when did the knocks go unheard,
What are these unspoken reckless words in my head debating about,
Did I lose it?
Because I don't think I'm moving forward,
Why am I running in circles?
Why am I laying on ashes,
What are these chains,
Why I'm down on my knees,
Everything I ever dreamed of flowed out my hand like mere sand,
YOU ARE READING
H E A L and B L O O M
PoésieIt is a collection of what I feel and felt or call it a mad rant, I hope you all can sympathize with them one way or another. Writing keeps me sane.
