09-08-2025
Saturday
My pain and my pen
talking each other,
on rhe single empty page
so they can connect with me.
My blood and my ink
connecting each other,
into the single valves
so they can run with me.
My tear and my sweat
falling each other,
on the table with a diary
so they can explain with me.
You know ?
why each of us knows everything,
well, it’s an emotional …. !
(“What If Pain Isn’t Just Suffering, But A Gift?” –DIARYPOEM24)