EIQ
Markings on his brain
'stead of his arms.
He kneels, folded
degraded by the night,
contemplating what shouldn't be.
He walks, hunched,
knowing the stares,
knowing what they mean.
And they say
it's not abuse.
YOU ARE READING
The Moon, Sun and Ice Cream
PoetrySo this is just a group of poems I put together. Some are really old, some I will write the day I post them. You're welcome to criticize my work, and give it to me straight. You're also just welcome to read. So, without further ado......
