My ashen face has been ridden of the burden of tears. There is nothing now to clean the dirt from my eyes.
My broken hands have been ridden of the burden of bandages. There is nothing now to keep them together.
My tired back has been ridden of the burden of strength. There is nothing now to fight with.
My bare feet have been ridden of the burden of piercing rocks. There is nothing now to support me.
YOU ARE READING
Life and Its Discrepancies
PoesiaThis book is filled with poems from every range of my emotions, from when I'm super depressed to when I can't be happier. I don't know how long I'll keep this thing going, just know that it covers a bunch of personal things that may be considered a...
