"Papa, what's hurt feel like?" The old man looked at the young girl, an apparent sadness in his eyes. At the notion that she would have to face it someday. "It's an ugly feeling my dear," he began, "it feels as if your whole world is ripped out from under you and all you can do is fall and hope that you won't be crushed." The young girl watched as the old man took her hand gently. "Have you ever been hurt before Papa?," she asked him. The old man gazed at the young girl, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Many times. And I'll feel it many more."
YOU ARE READING
Iridescence✔️
Poetryhere is a list of poems a construction of my totem i'm sure you've read them before but just in case don't slow the pace take a peek come play hide and seek
