Time.
Time has a way of healing wounds
But sometimes, it rots them
Sometimes the most beautiful sunrise can turn black
The darkest night can become subject to the blinding light that is hope
Hope, that you can right the wrongs or your past
But how
How do you make them aware that they are your everything
The air you need
The blood that courses through your veins
The very beating of your heart
How do you show them that you would bare the coldest winter to keep them warm
How do you show them that you would crawl on glass itself to see them smile
How do show them that you would be the Atlas who holds up their very world
How?
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Living Thoughts
PoetryAn ever-expanding collaboration of works that allow me to vent and hopefully help others along the way.
