I am your oldest scar
I am the one they stare at when
they look at you
and I am the one they see
when they don't see you
I have maneuvered the details
of my place and being
ever since you questioned my existence
I am your oldest scar
I would be the last to leave
I have known a thing or two
about falling,opening up,bleeding and healing
I am made of broken things yet
I have been resilient and undemanding
I expect you to forgive my existence
I am afterall your very own
I am not pretentious nor am I superficial
My roots dig deeper than you think they might
I will show on naked skin and
in unfurnished houses
Only remember this precious
Your tears are my own
your pain is mine as well
I am your oldest scar
I burn when you do.
Musings.Randomness.Satire.Attempts at nothingness.Nothingness in detail.A cup of coffee. A conversation.An obscure truth. A story about peripheral beings.Weirdness. Black nail paint and a girly truth.Giggles. Mindless creativity.Forgiveness.A mess.A life.Love.
Caution : What you could come across in the process.
Insignificant references to my life, an abstract and distracted thought sequel, monotony, inconsistency, vague vague perception, whorish intellectualism, feminist bullshit, armchair activism, causes I try to relate to, sharp sarcasm, even sharper criticism, frivolous details.
Nonetheless Happy Reading.
1 comment:
Oh my beloved
when can i see you :)
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