Mercy save me
Take me from this horrible misery
My children are growing up
Running away and coming back
Hours later with meat already cooked
Who?
Mercy, you should've been their mother
Mercy, you could've been their home
Their peace
Their survival
YOU ARE READING
The Wandering Woods
PoetryHere in the wandering woods, you have no self. It's you and the trees Swaying to a melody playing in the wind. Here in The Wandering Words, you have no hope. It's just you and the UNDEAD Limping along an unknown path - Found in a diary on the...
