When I was 5, I saluted my great grandmother to be fearless when being buried under the soil; to be enclosed in a screwed box. She was lost in the counting prays of her families and our local priest. The church choir sang a hymn for her. Later on, we threw more soil on top of her then left to give her some private space.
As I grew older, I understood why she wasn't scared that day- she wanted to show us how courageous it took for a proper death.
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Sanity For Two
Poetry"I remember why it's important for me to continue living." A collection of poems and a few short stories mainly about mental illness, suicide, death, abuse, love and friendship. ((SOME TOPICS IN THIS WRITING MIGHT BE TRIGGERING TO SOME READERS, SO...
