Trees. 

I’m breaking 

little by little, 

pieces of me 

are falling apart 

and piling upon me.

I’m suffocating 

under my inability

to create, 

I’m surrounded, 

probably buried under chalk

but yet, empty is my slate.
Walking random streets, 

I try to make sense 

of the mundane 

and try to find a story 

in a stranger eyes.

I wonder if I’ll ever meet

myself, beyond disguise. 

My words are all I have left of me, 

and I feel silence creeping 

under my veins 

drying out the blood in me, 

creating a void, causing me pain.
Somehow I try to pacify

this breaking heart with words

that I know, don’t suffice, 

as they echo in their own emptiness 

yet I try to believe the alibi.
I look up at the sky, and find trees, 

breaking through the fall, 

and sketching on the sky.

Inexplicably I find some peace 

in the idea of the circle of life,

in the idea that they grow again, 

and if they can, I can try.
 -WANDERER // Marlyn Pereira  

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