Each day I wake in pain
But not too much, enough to to bear
Each day is the same
It slowly starts to wear
Me and my paper cut
A stinging shallow wound on finger
Small enough to be unnoticed by a friend
But large enough to linger
Half the time it goes ignored
But then I wash my hands
YOU ARE READING
It Could Have Been Gentle - poetry
ŞiirPoems 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'...
