when you come out of a storm, you're not the same person as the one who walked in. you slip out with a stronger mind and heart. well, at least that's what all the poets and observers say. little do they know that you're so worn down, the hailstones leaving fresh bruises across your skin, a new storm brewing at the back of your head. the cycle never ends, it continues, it takes you around and around until you fall asleep with a heavy heart and wake up with an even heavier soul. no, they don't pay attention to the cracks in your soul, the spirit that you have lost, the heavy organ you carry behind the false protection of your ribcages. no, they don't pay attention to that at all.
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venus springs
Poetrypieces of my scattered, unfiltered thoughts mostly written during the darkest parts of the night. HIGHEST RANKINGS: #104 in poetry #25 in poetic
