The seasonal battle against weather and leaves describes me extremely well.
In the sun,
I am dehydrated,
My leaves are crisp and dry,
This is due to social settings draining the life out of me.
When the weather turns cold and melancholy,
I suffer the most,
My leaves falling from the trees,
My battery is dead from forcing myself to be positive in the hardest times.
YOU ARE READING
Bruised
Poetry"You poisoned me with your potion, Hexed me with your love and devotion. Now I lay in pieces, broken and brittle." Bruised is a poetry collection for the broken hearts and disappointed souls. It speaks words of wisdom, words of pain, and words of ad...
