Untitled #6

Cristielly Prado, Staff Writer

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His eyes were beautiful, it told his story

It showed a storm of just anger and pain

The storm was forever lasting and it never had an end


He couldn’t remember who he was, before the world let him down. He could never tell how he felt

If he ever told you how he got that way, you’d wonder how he got up today.

Words that were said, things that were seen

It was all kept to himself

He never meant for it to be that way but now he would always be looking for a lighthouse on those stormy days

Although he was afflicted with so much pain

He always saw a sunset on his darkest days

He always hoped for the day after a storm

He always hoped the lighthouse wasn’t far away  

Photo Courtesy https://img.culturacolectiva.com/content/2015/08/cuentos-mexicanos.jpg

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Untitled #6