30/4/2021
Visions of blood and bones and death and growth the lonelier I get the more love becomes a poisonous hoax we are all searching for 'the one' but the worse get
the more the years go on.
Since I plowed the fields of roses I haven't seen another throbbing heart since, I've asked a few but there's none who Rome the soulless river from which they share my loveless diner, my feast of fear and my crippling lust what's the point when it all makes my heart rust.
Cream running down her throat and upon her skin her jeans are soaked with a sensual sin her cheek is red as she bites her lip I miss her warmth because the memories make me sick.
There's a hole in my body where the stitches are missing it's full of ash from the devils kitchen, the holes from a shotgun blast the shells were loaded with regrets from my bleeding past.
I long for her but she's moved on it's been 2 years and she's been with others but I have not I've lost a lot and I miss plenty I guess what I'm saying is I miss lily.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of a foster kid
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry I made from ages 15 to 17 it's about mental health and growing up the last few years in foster care it's a journey about maturing as a kid but also learning to grow and deal with my demons in the on going battle of eve...
