written by: Ana Silva
A river cleans down the dust on my cheeks,
Tears rolling from stems of exhaustion
Belonging to a little tree that has grown
Out of a seed of compassion.
I planted it on my heart
But some stems reached out too far,
Tickling my brain differently in every season
So I end up frustrated for no reason.
My blurred vision and uneasy breath
Force me to remember hard work pays off,
But if I keep pushing I’ll end up pushing too far,
And if I break my own limits how can I still do it
Whilst inside I own million pieces of me apart?
Latest posts by Ana Silva (see all)
- Prophecy - May 15, 2021
- In The Midst of The Winter Dark - February 3, 2020
- Tears - June 25, 2018