I think comparing one's pain from the other is by far, for me, the most selfish. We don't go to the same battle.
We don't have the same war. We don't bleed the same wounds and we don't share the same length of scars. Our sufferings differ. And all there is to ache about is allowed to be felt.
Even the smallest degree. A paper cut, a tiny scratch, a rapture, a love that never goes reciprocated, a heart that journeys to an adventure uncertain about the foreseen heartbreaks. All these hurt.
And all these deserved to be healed. Whatever kind of pain you have now, little or not, that is something no one should underestimate about.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
PoetryYou don't really love someone, not until they become the person behind of your poetries. When poetry speaks, it echoes through your soul, lingers in your heart, and dances in your dreams. And... it stays. I wrote poems enough for people to ask, "w...
