"Come inside this heart of mine,
feel the beat to the poets rhyme,
words they tumble, spilling pain,
tales of woe or love, again."
Poems about love, good and bad, real and imagined, sometimes beautiful, sometimes dark but always, always, from the...
Breathing so automatic, natural no thought required just inhale and exhale. Yet, she struggled. Her lungs felt the weight of her misery crushed and laboured.
What if she didn't fight for the next inhale? What if the last exhale was the final one?
Would the pain end?
Alas, no. It would not. and so she fought clenched her teeth and battled, for the next breath not to be her last.
For as painful as it was existence right now it was worth fighting for She was worth fighting for
And she hoped that one day she would start to believe it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
