ironically, if my voice made a sound. i wouldn’t be here. in this place. my throat wouldn’t be sore, my ears wouldn’t cringe, and my brain wouldn’t be wrapped in cotton. Or so I think. if it made a sound that people could hear. it wouldn’t be like the wind exhaling. or sleeping baby’s breath. a silent baby’s cry. it would be me.
Or so I think.
Written by A. Writes
Photo by A. Writes
Alecia Writes 