My friends asked me
"How come you often open your old wounds? And how come you tell me without being sad?"
They thought I haven't moved on yet
Or maybe they thought I lose myself in old memories
Or maybe they thought I haven't forgive people who hurt me in the past
The truth is,
I learned how to dance with melancholy
And I lead the dance
I learned to wear my wounds like an armor
And I would tell them I survived, and I'll do it again
I learned how to forgive myself
And since that hurtful moment
I see those people as the ghosts of people I've killed in the battle
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of Madness
PuisiCollections of thoughts and poems by me. Feel free to comment and vote, this is my personal works with subjective perspective from my own thoughts and feelings
