Sprawling black cursive on tear stained paper,
Fluorescent red cuts on newly broken skin.
The ink was indelible,
And cuts turn to scars too.
-H.B
YOU ARE READING
Words We Cannot Speak
PoetryPoems; Woe and hope, love and despair Poems mend us, they repair. Broken souls mixed with broken minds, Poems teach us what it is to be alive. They offer thoughts to inspire. They give us hope to aspire, They answer unanswerable questions They offer...
