Phobia

Pacifique Niyitanga

And when I smell the fire

A bunch of worries

Reminds me of foes;

Persistent like a stain.

 

And when I smell the blood

Floods of memories,

O’ my woe’s echoes

Fill my fucking brain.

 

And when I smell the oxygen

All turn into stories,

Bliss grows as roses;

I break the pain’s chain.

  • Author: Pacifique Niyitanga (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 1st, 2023 15:50
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 3
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Parisab

    Great imagery: after breathing so that the “story” of phobia and fear to “bliss of rose” I’m glad to see your new work peer friend



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