somethings wrong with all of us
the way our heads turn like screws,
and our voices fumbles around in the dark
The way we say "I do". But don't have a clue why do we do at the alter.
the way we want to sick so badly to somone like glue to paper,
the way we look, walk, the way we eat
and talk like there's life or no life
burried deep inside of us,
and gobble down food like hungry beast,
the way 𝑤𝑒 breath in the scent of flowers and rain and the cold crisp air,
the way how our eyes glistens and how we shift to listen,
the way how our hearts like windows open up for the first time or in a while,
after ignoring the dangerous and the sunshine of the world
How we muffle a cry by turing our backs as the front side,
how our chest aches after a tough day,
how we still hold onto faith even when we feel like it's flown and blown away,
but nothings-
wrong with us, because that what makes
us human.
-ashespoetry
