Pierced and left to dry,
Again, while freshly healing.
I think of you, still.
YOU ARE READING
her gloom
कविता"I am you, one day out of five, Tired, empty, hating what I carry But afraid to lay it down, stingy, Angry, doing violence to others By the sheer freight of my gloom, Halfway home, wanting to stop, to quit But keeping going mostly out of spite...
