dulcepelayo's Letters
As seasons come, seasons go.
As spring has sprung, the rivers flow.
A new birth of a weary soul is reborn.
Yet, I sit hit with this heavy thorn.
Hoping that I can find peace and learn what I need to know.
From the pain inflicted by the white substance that tore my family apart.
I now sit here writing this poem with a broken heart.
For I once…read more