Volcano

I used to sign contracts

With red ink and abandonment clauses

I gave my map into other people's hands

And lost myself in the paths they traced

I learned to read my silences

Like someone deciphering ancient manuscripts

I discovered that my borders

Are golden letters

In the encyclopedia of my worth

My chest was a drawer of other people's promises -

It still holds shards of"who knows"...

But silence, when it bursts, becomes a volcano,

I swallowed screams until I turned into a graveyard.

what's left behind

is a 3x4 photo with half of it torn off.

What's next?

The same bus as always,

but without you at the stop.

My chest was a drawer of other people's promises -

It still holds shards of"who knows"...

But silence, when it bursts, becomes a volcano,

I swallowed screams until I turned into a graveyard.