Walking on this road,
I've fell so much,
I had to grow wings.
The cage got so small,
I had to break it.
I've been cut so much,
Now I can't feel it.
Didn't see the light,
Now my vision doesn't need it.
I've lived in fire,
Now I can breathe it.
YOU ARE READING
Mend
PoetrySomething's misplaced. It's broken, it's harmed and stabbed and hurt. Our visions are blur for we don't look at what's not visible - what's inside, the power and beauty within and how it is misaligned. We need to heal, we need to mend.
