by Bella Clark - February 21, 2020
When the world starts to crack and
constitutions begin to crumble and
blood stains the bookshelves,
you stand with glue and bandages.
When souls wail and
spirits are dragged down to drown and
the last shards of hearts are scattered,
you collect the pieces and hold them
until the blueprints are found.
You are so quiet, so soft.
Sometimes it’s hard to find you
when the Acheron starts to drown us.
Where do you get this strength
to persevere,
to burn, even when the rain pours?
