Dear Diary,
Everyone has been saying that they met and passed on to a stranger on the street or on social media—a stranger with whom they hold a memory. A stranger, which they say they knew its birthday, their favorite color, their most hated food.
It's strange because I saw mine in an album, in a photo, in a frame, or in the mirror right in front of me. In there, I've met and seen stranger who I knew from the very beginning. A stranger who I once saw as a young dreamer and a growing achiever.
A stranger whose eyes were so innocent; her tears just flowed out of pleasing desires; her smile was bright like a morning sun; and her cheeks were as pretty as a cherry blossom in mid-winter. A little girl who's swaying her body in the sound of the rain, running towards the comfort of her bed when the thunder booms.
It felt so weird to look at the girl I saw in the mirror. That stranger—she's grown, and I don't know her anymore. Her eyes were still innocent, but they seemed so tired and lifeless. Her tears were flowing when her mouth couldn't speak. She's practicing her dark and pretentious smiles. Her cheeks were pale, and her soul was dead.
A stranger, whom I once saw as a little girl swaying her body in the sound of the splashing waters, is now lying on the trail road under the rain.
Thunder doesn't fear her anymore. Does that mean she grew up strong?
YOU ARE READING
diary of a broken soul
PoetryThis book is a compilation of poems. This is for those who have a broken soul trapped in a tired, restless body. Every piece of your brokenness will fit in each word, and every part of you will be in every chapter. Be with the book, as it will conti...
