Dead...
Tears shed for those who are gone.
Nevertheless, it does not mean weakness.
Each tear has a name and carry memories that are slowly written down the trail it leaves in my face.
My face will carry such story and tears will not be cleanse.
I will continue thy legacy.
Tell me what you see.
A new path that has been cleared so I can walk upon.
But life is an asshole, meaning that the path is still messy,
but I am still grateful that a way is put upon me to tell a story,
History of my blood.
Sunshine's glory is bestowed to me!
I shall start my journey.
YOU ARE READING
Hidden Mysteries
PoetryPoetry is a fine way to tell you exactly who I am. And yet, you'd still be clueless. But of course, prove me wrong.
