but sometimes, i feel
scared of looking back.
im frightened to
watch myself falling,
unmoving,
in an endless abyss
of my own flaming
damnation
without anyone
noticing the
soots of my bones.
again.
how can i look
back when the chains
of trauma hold me
a hostage?
how can i acknowledge
the past where
every scene crawl
under my skin, until it
flames,
burns--
my own past is something
sinful to
look back.
--; an excerpt
🍀
YOU ARE READING
Cloverleaf Poems
Randomrandom shots of my poems im not really expecting a lot of people will be interested given that a lot more catchy works are in this community. and im not a veteran writer-just frustrated. hehe. anyway, if you happen to run through this, i still hope...
