I was so immersed in unraveling the rationale behind my disquietude that I totally forgot I am breathing, alive & my life is passing by. I'm literally missing out the lucid living by merely just existing with all the hurt inside me that no one honestly cares about. But why do I still care about wasting yet another second of mine thinking about it? And why am I wasting yet another second, writing about it? ~
YOU ARE READING
Amidst Darkness
PoetryAmidst my Darkness.. I write & find solace!~ (I may post here or I may post on my insta acc @howls.of_soul. Please check out if you can. TIA~ ^-^)
