And on my early mornings
These disheveled bony sparrows
Get nothing but the ashes
From over my concrete bench
Not a single ray of sun from above
To dry their soaked feathers
No other source of warmth
But from my smokey breath
It is both an offering
And an offence to the skies
Ascending hazily into the vast grey
I am not a creature anymore
I am everything, everywhere.
YOU ARE READING
Hard To Explain
PoetryHello, my name is Lina. I've been writing shitty poetry since I was a little kid and, even if it makes me cringe sometimes I keep on writing it just because I have enough trauma to fuel it... So if you see that I update this book more than once or t...
