hate to narrate it reminiscing
how crippled by fear I stood
watching the nightmare unfold
how silly are I to let it happen
again and again
to one person more
every day by day
the storm struck hard
took the roof and the walls
vulnerable I feel
struggling to find strength
feeble to the bone
dullness in the eyes which
once used to shine with hope
are now covered with mist
and I cannot cry even if I wish to
YOU ARE READING
I'm fashionably late to loving myself
PoetryThe world would be dull if love, poetry, admiration, zeal, passion, and romance wouldn't lace each strand of our heavenly web. I spill my heart on this one love letter to the entire humanity. In a faint voice though, soft enough to hear only when yo...
