your words are alive,
and your voice is the one commander,
that holds the whip,
the one restricting them,
the one letting them lash out.
are the open wounds good enough
or do you have to keep going,
are you finished with my punishment,
or do you have to punish yourself a little more?-the architect
YOU ARE READING
The fall of a poet's soul
Poesieshades of melancholy, pastel sunlight and mindful devotion.