featured by @coffeecommunity
featured by @storiesundiscovered
winner of league of litterateurs '23
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we're all made of stars.
but what happens when one of the stars, dies?
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when we're born, we're just a child full...
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My skin rests on soot and gravel On some "Road To Home" they call. Contemplating, North or South? To chase the sun or stars?
I dream of a world, the skies are blue, And clouds a sheet of white. With no greys, or in-betweens Yes, I dream of impossible things.
Don't plunge me into reality, Where soldiers bleed, and women scream. Where people with stolen childhoods live. 'Twas not how the world ought to be.
The sky is on fire, vultures circling, Scavenging helpless innocents. Blood-curdling screams, and shaky grounds, Where the foundation of humanity's misplaced.
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a person who dreams of blue skies, while their homeland has crimson ones.
dedicated to every human, forced to face the brutality, that is, war.
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