16.04.22
10:33
i went to my second funeral the other day and it reminded me of the funeral i had for myself when i was 14. no one came because everyone held out hope that i was still alive, that i was still breathing with my skin ripped from my ribs and my wrist battered and bloody. i was wounded from their transgressions and i still continued to show mercy, saying "forgive them, for they do not know what they do.". they realized i was dead eventually after i stopped showing up to church on sunday, and that's when the flowers arrived and the "we miss you" texts showed up in little bubbles on my phone. the church's worst fear had happened: their sheep wandered off from the herd and into the world, or as i'd like to call it, i opened my eyes from the first time like a lamb coming out of its mother's womb. like jesus, i rose up again in three days time, with only a scar on my heart and vengeance to seek. for the next forty days, i shout the true word of the gospel to any and all who will listen.
// if anyone still reading this shit.
YOU ARE READING
words don't come that easy.
PoesíaI've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expressing macro feelings in the few words that I'm limited to. you might think you know me enough because it's been a long time since i first wav...
