My existence is scandalous and not under any scrutiny neither is it under maintenance at all.
I'm simply a soulless moving body with a face and eyes that only see black and white and pink on Wednesdays.
Who am I but a heavy load of droopy arms and legs and feet that can barely lift?
Good days are far gone
Only days to catastrophizie and weep to the lord for assistance for my Human powers have resistance.
I muffle through my pillow to the birds on my window that I'm not mad I just cannot flinch from my bed.
I cannot open the blinds from my window because of it
The only time I'll ever open a blind is when I feel some form of calligraphy and Care.
YOU ARE READING
As It Was B4 But Now.
PoetryAs it was b4 but now is Tasha Cindy Kunda's second poetry collection wrapped in with a few stories. Expressing herself as she heals and grows from situations and expresses herself in the perspective of her own eyes and others. This poetry collectio...
