To those who get to remember
how things were
without being plagued
by the taunting face
of lived tragedy
to those whose cigarettes' stubs
don't look like stumps
of remaining human limps
struck by war
to those who don't get drunk
on nostalgia
before relief sober them up
and to those who smile
not a wooden smile
but a hearty one
when an image of their home
passes before their mind's eye
May your memories
always be clean
may they always
be pure
YOU ARE READING
Limitless Lady
PoetryI'm tired, but I don't know how to be otherwise. I know no moderation. I'm a hurricane, and I know I'm raging. I'm a child, and I'm against ageing. I'm brutal and tender, and all the vast spaces in between. So erase the limits, my fr...
