House on fire — Brushstrokes of silent poetry

This is a poem by one of my favourites and also a friend I call my sister! I suggest you check her out.

I fight fires in my house. I have forgotten what it means to breathe. I fight amidst smoke-filled insecurities and choke my way through pain. Time passes and charred remains lay littered where vitality once birthed dreams. In this house, joy is a privilege. A priceless need drifting in and out of a dark sea […]

via House on fire — Brushstrokes of silent poetry


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