Surviving
each second
that isn’t yours,
that never asked
your permission
to exist.
What’s left
of your soul
is taken from you.
In the end,
little shade,
and the water
that remains.
The wine you drink,
sour sweat,
and the water you lack
are meant
for the flowers
already set aside
for when
you are ash.
Until
you awaken
before becoming
their soil.
And then,
drunk on life,
for the first time.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 1:47 PM UTC
Surviving
each second
that isn’t yours,
that never asked
your permission
to exist.
What’s left
of your soul
is taken from you.
In the end,
little shade,
and the water
that remains.
The wine you drink,
sour sweat,
and the water you lack
are meant
for the flowers
already set aside
for when
you are ash.
Until
you awaken
before becoming
their soil.
And then,
drunk on life,
for the first time.
by A.Frota
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