It is true that I crack
That I feel
Untill I can bear no more
And sometimes,
I am blinded by my sore
Like the land in a riverbank
I melt,
Lose a few pieces,
And need distance
From my own species
I am fragil
As a touch screen
And that allows me
To notice your steam
I am sensitive
And I bleed empathy
It is the virtue
That aflows in me
For being fragil
Doesn't make me weak
Nor brittle
Merely means
I can sense change
Even if it's a little
YOU ARE READING
The Faces Of Nudity
Poetry◐∇◐◐∇◐◐∇◐◐∇◐◐∇◐ What am I when I don't need to pretend? When I am my own company? When I am in the comfort of a quiescent place? Our true faces remain hidden under expensive suits and cases. And "The Faces of Nudity" prompts a different gaze to the...
