Dear Young You:

Crowded wrinkles, shriveled hands, an unsteady bone-sculpted mould. The depth in her eyes, a depiction of time, tracing a deep travelled road. She stares at her image, the damage and folds, from mistakes that her younger self made. Boldness strikes her blunt knuckles, crookedness forms, as the strength of her fist starts to fade. RecollectionContinue reading “Dear Young You:”