someday, you will be free. but what if the freedom you had always sought is worse than where you are today?
YOU ARE READING
Burning Home
Poesía[ a poetry collection about grieving and becoming. ] I wish for the day when flowers no longer sink in water. When their eyes gaze not ignominy but proud; even dust can be seen as gold. And exhaustion feels rewarding.
a false hope
someday, you will be free. but what if the freedom you had always sought is worse than where you are today?
