My heart hurts and the anxiety rises,
I'm afraid, but why do you hurt?The misfortune hit me,
like a cut hurt me,
then maybe this verse
It no longer makes sense.Maybe life isn't bad
If you're thinking about it,
a life wasted looking for
what I couldn't find in myself.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for who needs it
Poesíapoetry isn't meant to cure pain but to testimoniate it.
Poem.
My heart hurts and the anxiety rises,
I'm afraid, but why do you hurt?The misfortune hit me,
like a cut hurt me,
then maybe this verse
It no longer makes sense.Maybe life isn't bad
If you're thinking about it,
a life wasted looking for
what I couldn't find in myself.