My body is at war with itself.
Tread carefully, because my mind is a minefield.
Step onto the wrong thought, and fear will explode.
What do you do when your soul is No Man's Land?
The tips of my fingers are a battlefield.
My blood is committing treason.
Invisible wounds pain me.
Peace is but a fleeting dream at times of war.
How do I make it stop?
If not for her, I'd be gone.
If not for him, I'd be lost.
YOU ARE READING
Fading Echoes
PoetryThese are not poems. This is not a story. This is my soul poured into words. That voice you hear in your head as you read this, that's me. I don't know where I am, but I'm talking to you. Isn't that a miracle? You're hearing the fading echoes of wha...
