the tears still fresh on her cheeks-a pool of exhaustion a loud scream that was broken and used blood flowing around her- the blood of the weak -the ones she couldnt save or even keep the water enclosing her last weep drowned by her fear that she'll never speak.
YOU ARE READING
poetry for the broken
Şiirthis is some poetry that I will write its new and read at your own risk
tears
the tears still fresh on her cheeks-a pool of exhaustion a loud scream that was broken and used blood flowing around her- the blood of the weak -the ones she couldnt save or even keep the water enclosing her last weep drowned by her fear that she'll never speak.