This poem is for everyone who had lost something from their own body. For those whose skin has burnt away or soul has taken residence in a cold closet. This is also for everyone else. All of us need to hear this. It goes something like this - "I cannot begin to imagine...."
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Keyla lived in a world where mythologies were the real deal. It was common to be in the presence of the god of the sea or hear stories from witnesses of age-old wars like the Mahabharata. Her day looked something like this: waking up when the sun sang songs loud enough for the world to hear, working all day on things that were routine but barely mattered and sleeping when the stars thought it was time. The Trojan war had just recently ended and things were.....
Elisabeth's routine that day was very similar to all the other days, except that 'something different' that caused this story.
Humans don't use one of their senses to feel something. What makes you think stories can? A tale of the five senses started with the story of rape and is now discussing another important topic.
You have not seen ruins the way 1945 has. Let's talk about war, peace and a few stories again.