winter
please just don't
let me become like
my parents.
I need my emotions,
inside me,
and not,
shouted out loud, so
everybody can hear them,
even my little son
who shivers under his blanket
crying, because he is
alone.
YOU ARE READING
4 seasons of me
PoetryOthers write only the good, others only the bad...this is the place for those who felt both. Who loved and hated. A Journey, through a year of my Life. Winter (lonely). Spring (finding). Summer (love). Fall (losing). One year. Four seasons. One...
