If poetry wasn't meant to be felt then why does every word hit your chest as if you re-lived a certain moment?
If poetry wasn't made to be relatable then why does every line feel so close as if you wrote the piece yourself?
We've all been there an...
I'm fine. You asked me how I am and I'm fine. Though I have marks on my body And bruises on my heart And scars in my mind, I'm fine. Though I've walked a war path And barely made it alive, Without a weapon to my hand Or even a soul by my side; You asked me how I am And I'm fine. Because I have no choice but to be Fine.
Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.