Her loneliness was a foreign barrack ,
Full of brutal strangers ready to attack.
In it she curled in defense revealing only her back
But her eyes were like a magic mat,
they flew her to freedom when shut.
YOU ARE READING
The Voice of My Silence
PoetryThe words that he spat germinated and grew into the tree that overshadowed him What goes around.. From the author: vote and comment if you like what you see
