Fingers that refuse to not write
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unseen
The physical fights leave visible wounds, and scars that prove the struggle that ensued. But these brutal wars that we fight within, the deep wounds that incessantly bleed till we drop down on the battle field, the help that never arrives because to the beholder there is nothing to be…
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The torn whole
To lose yourself is a nasty business; back to the brokenness you were so late to discover, or on to the terrors you had fought to escape all this while.
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the Storm
I’ve learnt to observe this storm within. It is literally a storm, rocking your insides and threatening to tear you down. And boy, has it torn me down! I have lost track of the number of times it has happened over the past couple of years.
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Quill Gone Mad 