I hate storms like these. the kind where the wind whips your hair, taunting you, the kind where the rain slaps you face, spits in your eyes
"You were never enough," the wind hisses and howls,
the rain giggles in agreement, "Poor little thing, just couldn't do it"
"I tried my best," I thrash my arms about me but it is useless, the wind easily evades my blows
"No you didn't"
"Yes I did.
I did my best"
"No you didn't.
You gave up"
"No I-"
YOU ARE READING
It Could Have Been Gentle - poetry
PoetryPoems about the bits of life that feel unnecessarily sharp. ~ Nails in palms and rock in throat and eyes latched in the ground, I open up in hopes of speech and find a choke of sound, Frantic thought of desperation fly beneath my hair, I don'...
