It all starts from
A single word,
A tedious nuisance
That undramatically
Strives to unfold.
I bear it
At the borders
Of my peace
As I bear
Little insults
Pretending not
To be hurt.
There, my panic feeds
with guileful care
premenstrual fields
where I dream to smoke,
my gesture more
than my cigarette,
Inhaling memories,
And transparent,
Braided afternoons.
it is like a true window to your moment. thanks.
and the drawing is great.
Thank you, the drawing is not mine though:)
it is still good.
That word hurts, I know. I am sorry, this is the way it is.
Some of the metaphors are unfamiliar too, but the emotions in this piece is very palpable as a whole. I hope you already found peace.
True, words hurt but words can heal too and bring relief, so one has but to take things as they come.
As for finding peace in this world it has become increasingly
harder especially when one ignores the reason of his or her existence.
mashallah