a (la)crime.

It has been months that I constantly tell myself, “I am going to be okay.” But I have not. I am not fully recovered yet. My skin is thin, parched, and regenerates slowly compared to a baby. The scars were left too deep in my soul that the damages are imprinted in my vast ocean of thoughts, and I can not seem to lift it up.

Years of suffering and sacrifices seem to lead me to nothing. A worthless war, an act of treachery, a youth deprived to hold the same status quo.

All this, for what?