You look in the mirror.
The person looking back at you
is sad and weakened.
Their eyes read pain,
their lips cold,
their nose crinkled.
They pick at scars,
scabs and cuts on their face,
and they look on with melancholy.
You say to them,
"You're a sad, broken man,
but that will change someday."
And it will.
Someday.
YOU ARE READING
Poems & Short Stories
Historia CortaA collections of poems, short stories, and whatever else may fall under those grounds.
