Up the hill and through the door,
She forgot all she knew before
- once kind, she lost her own soul.
Twas the last day she seemed whole.
Along the street and below the trees,
Her unshed tears could've filled seas
With how she tried to fit back in.
She's back, yet she will not win.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
