i can still taste iron in my mouth
thoughts never escape, unless you’re dead
like a cockroach, no one gives sympathy
for the one who destroys things and then asks
for mercy. i know now that a lost puppy
will always miss its first owner even when
he’s living in a new house. that i can’t replace the
ones they lost, but everything is replaceable
by a younger, better version. that memories stay
in our bodies like cancer, like a virus, eating us
alive, making us miserable. but we love it so
fucking much we forget to live today. that there
are bombs that look like fireworks falling on
top of your houses, and how should you call a
tragedy that is so beautiful at the same time?
how do i sit here and think about quitting
when there are people who run away
with their pets to the shelter, trying not to quit
life, holding onto the last hope,
of being able to live for another day.
your brain is so good at create the crazy scenarios
so you can feel something other than trying to
die, but when death comes, do you run and hide?
t.l.
Tsunami of Words 