And the balloon can never see the blue of its own private skin, Nor hear the pain in its own chest.
It floats on without hope or fate, On and on by itself against the prettiest of skies.
No one can help you, to save you: who has been hurt before?
Some better than you.
Save yourself.
Be brave!
Climb to the heavens.
Climb to your red heart.
Gaze into it — all you will have.
Gaze into it.
Look into it!
:: 03.29.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 