With a loose stitch on your arm,
a broken limb,
bruises seem to heal not,
scars that don't want to fade
and near-to-falter soul,
you are still walking
with swelling eyes.
Oh dear,
where did you get
that kind of
'brave'?
YOU ARE READING
Constellation
PoetryHere lies the speck of words orbiting in my own galaxy that was once lost but finally found its own constellation.
