In the recesses of my soul, sorrow whispers,
Veiled secrets linger, unseen, unheard,
Yearning for liberation, they strain against the seams,
In the cadence of my weeping, they find their streams.
Through rustling leaves, the sorrowful symphony sways,
A lament of nature, woven in the breeze's maze,
In harmony with my silent cries,
In solitude, I traverse sorrow's skies.
In the looking glass, fractured reflections abide,
A splintered visage, emotions denied,
Eyes that reflect a universe of hurt,
Longing for solace, yet remaining inert.
About the Creator
Ed Heerkens
. It also requires a keen sense of observation and an understanding of the human experience, so that you can create relatable characters and situations that resonate with your audience.
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Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Wow, this is powerful.