poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
I rememeber the torture of the world,like the back of my hand,like the map of the road to my house,like the way I know my way around my room,I know this feeling of currents running through me,tougher and tougher,like fires and daggers raging, I remember them saying it“he isn’t going to make it Ameera”,my body […]