Keeper
From the Blog randomlyabstract *Stories are gifts. They don't belong just everywhere. A story lives where lives Love.* I have my grandmother's stories within me, and my mother's, and yours— Why do I have yours? I have someone else's anger, a tragedy from another place in time Where I wasn't, where I'll never be – except in the future of their past that is already a memory Numberless faces read out their stories and not one I could tell not to Like I could not tell you "I don't want your stories!" I scream now when it's too late— Waking up from a dream, and sleeping into another Why do I still find you near? Filed under: 2017, By the roaring waves!, Paintings and Scribblings, Poems and poetry pakistanblogs.blogspot.comRead Full Post
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