You may trod me in the very dirt.
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
— Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
Stories
Simone Brick Simone Brick

Stories

Underneath my ink are stories, of places my mind has been.
Of battles I have faced alone, in a world that is unseen.
Unseen not because it’s rare, or invisible to the eye;
But unseen because the reality of it, makes people think you want to die.

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