Few of my million daily thoughts, stories, and poems survive the battles in my head and make it to this blog.
Help me give them a louder voice.
(All poems are written by me, you can call me Zee)
He knew what was wrong but could not be corrected
He looked at the mirror and hated what it reflected
Images no longer compelling
A stranger in the same old setting
He wanted to die just to start again
Then he slept and woke up a different man
Glasses with no prescription
Changed his perception
His eyes fooled him you see
They kept him from being free
All he needed were colored glasses made by his daughter
Saying happy new year to the best father
Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee