Although my chipping, burnt lungs choke and flake on syrup like smoke,
And the world is in a series of chaos,
There's this indifference,
Of this soft, caressing kiss of wind that flits through my hair and dances,
breezes,
blows breaths of honeysuckles and ash across my face,
And I somehow can't stop feeling an unexpected tranquility,
Almost like maybe in some strange way I've won a battle I never knew I entered to begin with.
-D.
YOU ARE READING
No More Hiding
Non-FictionWhat's the point in hiding the truth? TRIGGER WARNING: -EATING DISORDERS. -DEPRESSION. -SELF-HARM. -SUICIDE. -ANXIETY. -HEARTBREAK. -ASSAULT. IF YOU FIND YOURSELF SENSITIVE OR EASILY TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THIS CONTENT, PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE. You have...
