poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
and in the end,what was left in this burial?who’s truth came fourth?and why is my Body still Bleeding?Talking of the poison that’s been leaked into Me,stung from scorpions unexpected,alike and foreign,bites in all the wrong crevasses, marked even the fragile of skins,my heart softened in its cotton, thought I could navigate the Fire of stupidity,a […]