no treatment works,
unless there's something to treat in the first place.
it's funny how the human mind does that, isn't it?
how we trick ourselves into thinking that there's no hope, when there is?
my parents do not understand this
my mom hugs me every morning, and repeatedly reminds me that she loves me
I'm not dying. I'm not planning on going anywhere, especially considering that i can't do my own laundry.
I love my parents, but they do not know this
how would they know if I've never been able to tell them?
isn't that how a lot of things work?
we feel something, without the ability to express anything at all?
but then again, isn't that why I write?
or is it why I shouldn't?
YOU ARE READING
As Silent as A Second Language
PoetryPoems are often disregarded as a romanticized way of looking at conflict. Here we meet a young girl, who has been mute since she was three. No friends, no life at all. The only way she survives is through her poems. Little do her doctors and countle...
