CATHARSIS
I emerge from echoes, from a dungeon so deep,
To erase the ink of inner turmoil you keep.
Thy mollycoddled soul, relegated to bits,
Here's tulsi for the bruises where life's pain sits.
I'm the crucible's fire, shaping an alchemist’s design,
An emotional release, making every space divine.
Copyright © Jeta Buch | Year Posted 2025
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