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)
She never asked for the change
Coins in my hands
In a jar made of glass
Clear to see
I was expecting
To be the richest out of change
But I didn’t see the change that was coming
As the first bomb fell
They ran for shelter
I was running
To the jar of change
I’ve been collecting
Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee