The earth calls on me.
And I answer the call.
They asked me to do them a favor.
And I leave the phone off of its hinge so they can hear me.
I gather the tree leaves to make a tincture.
Grab some dirt and rub it on my skin.
Take a beetle and grind it into paint.
Put that on my forehead.
Take me, earth.
Place me deep inside.
My essence becomes life again,
But only when I don't see it.
A child doesn't remember a child inside the womb,
And I won't remember me before this.
But I live on through you.
Hopefully i made enough of an impact,
To be remembered by you.
Through everything that lives.
Through my ended breath.
YOU ARE READING
Lost, Found, And Chosen.
PoetryThis is a poetry book, it talks about lovers, it talks about everyday situations, it talks about love and the pain accompanied by it; It can break your heart or build it. Take the time to understand this poetry book and its effortless simplicity and...
