The world is running out of dry pillows.
Every night,
The pain,
the trauma,
the heartbreak,
the loss,
the numbness,
the uncertainity,
the sadness returns.
It all returns.
The world cries silently,
battling its own demons,
it holds on to life.
Love calms it,
it clasps it dearly,
like a mother subtly does to her child
against her breast.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry:My Only Friend
شِعرIn a world where falling in love is so rare, I fell in love with poetry. It gave me understanding. I write to understand my pain. I write to feel my pain and transcend it. I feel my words, I feel the past, the present, I envision the future, all th...
