I stared at the box in loathe
Of myself
Of the contents
Placing it in a drawer, never to be seen
I picked it up,
Opening it,
And staring at the relics inside.
I forgot what it felt like to hold them,
And not be in a panic,
And not be frantically searching
For untainted skin.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Screams
PoésiePoems I wrote myself. All of them are original. (Can be triggering.)
