My pain is not the kind you mend with a band-aid.
It is the kind that wakes you up at 4 am in cold sweat.
It is the kind that forcefully enters your mind when you are alone.
It is the kind that makes you scrub a little harder when you bathe.
It is you.
YOU ARE READING
The Way Trees Wait For Spring
PoesíaWelcome to The Way Trees Wait For Spring Breathe between your tears and laughters Live through your lessons and memories Enjoy this short temporal moment of a human life
