"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood"


If I could bleed words I would

Rip off the bandages and throw open the wounds to the wind

Change comes but slowly while I while away time

Counting backwards to the rhythm of the drip-drip of the faucet

Sing me a song of survival

Flesh wounds dry up with time

Scars shine on like badges of honour

They only speak of glory once the war ends

What of the sleepless nights spent in despair

What of the haunted nightmares and cold sweat

Ideas are bullet-proof? Then why does it burn to follow through

We ended up as echoes of our past selves

Send in a search party for the lost causes that went in vain

Can you hear me now? 


#reverie


From the archive, Jul 1'21

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