At the start we take it for granted. The blissful explosion of bubbles that up out of your chest and erupt out your mouth in a series of giggles. It can sit with you for a while, an air of joy that dances around your head, radiating off you. Glowing your aura.
Happiness.
We take it for granted so easily. We didn't know it was there until the black shadows invade, unable to be pushes away. Like tarp it sticks to your soul, eating away at it. Leaves a scar that can easily tear and bleed.
YOU ARE READING
For the weak.
PoesíaA collection of all the poems/short pieces of writing, I've written and can find. Topics/genres varying.
