Written by Jacob Ibrag
I wake up with scratches on my
soul. Invisible to you and unseen to the whole
world. I wake up with memories borrowed from another
place. A spirit that remembers way past yesterday. A collective
of weaknesses married to different strengths. I’m a historian
who doesn’t understand his own history. And so I go to
bed with scars I can’t explain. A guest in my own
soul. A resident living with strangers.
Photo by DeMorris Byrd
Eyes + Words 
Reblogged this on Art, Photography and Poetry.
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Read it several times now. This really hit me deep!
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Great writing!
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Thank you!
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Very welcome!
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So beautiful! A guest in my own soul. Lovely
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Thank you very much 🙂
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It’s only natural, we feel lost, because we have no sense, of who we are, supposed to be in this life, and you just have to, trust fate, and know, that, everything, will, come, in time…
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I love that! the way it’s written, too, adds a lot.
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Thank you 😀
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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