poetry

night market

The bustling streets are alive, the vendors all cry, buy buy buy! with the colours of the food they sell, with the sticks to be punctured into the meat, while the cars are moving pass us as we walk, I inhale the energy. the dirty gravel, the cars, and the stalls. it's chaotic but calming… Continue reading night market

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poetry

Periods

Though I bleed, I get up. Though I sigh. I see that life can be a magnificent amalgamation of open wounds and ecstasy   Though I bleed, with these cramps, I am keen to be seen I will leave home as if, there is nothing bothering me.   Though I bleed, that doesn't mean that… Continue reading Periods