No blood would come,
The needle wouldn't take it,
The nurse told me I was drained out;
Empty on the inside;
A drought in my veins.
She tried the other arm
But the thick, red substance was not in sight.
I sat and waited with a needle in my arm not needing to be told twice;
Empty inside.
-by holly boyd
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...
