The Long Way Back
- Reads 172
- Votes 3
- Parts 13
Tagspoem
This book isn't born from comfort. It's born from scars, from hunger, from nights when silence was louder than my own screams. Every page carries a piece of me-broken, stitched, carried forward.
I don't write to impress. I write to remember. To honor the pain, the lessons, and the people who stood beside me when I thought I couldn't stand at all.
If you're holding this, know that these words aren't polished jewels. They are fragments. They are ashes. And in the ashes, I found gratitude.
Kaloy
All Rights Reserved
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