I find skipping efficient, but I'm not talking about child's play. 
The flavor looks bittersweet, yet I've tasted little in days.
Feeling light as a feather, but breeding worthwhile repercussions,
It takes perilous dedication to conceal the pain of perpetual hunger. 
 
I find masks protective, but I'm not talking about immunity.
It lies at my bedside, recharging each night, telling others I'm doing all right in the daytime. 
Isolation is serene, but I suffocate in contemplation.
I have yet to find even one who makes me fancy veracious authentication. 
 
I find drawing consolatory, but I'm not talking about pencil and paper. 
I don't use utensils, and the same canvas should suffice.
Every etch is significant in constructing a developmental timeline.
My paintings are temporary, synced to one color, but the strokes are permanent, disclosed in the summers. 
 
I find fruit reviving, but I'm not talking about sugary produce.
Patience, peace, and gentleness denote my zealously virtues. 
Love always wins, but I've lost sight of its embrace.
Perhaps healing will bloom with more time, courage, and space. 



Tuesday 10 December 2024