I hear and I read, I feel and I breathe
The touch of problems afraid of granting me leave
Screech however I must, they will feed
For I am only a stranger, I must concede
To that which doesn't kill me, nor let me breathe
YOU ARE READING
Rhythms From a Quarter Life
PoetryI will die the very moment this poetry collection is complete, not a moment more, not a moment less. Yet, what worries me is not death but never being able to complete this poetry collection. These are the rhythms resonating from a quarter-life.
