Soft grey clouds formed above her head, the precipitation they brought with them washing away her compassion
Her lungs became stones, and her fingers grew leaves
It was quite simple, really
She had become
u n n e r v e d .
YOU ARE READING
Academy Of American Bullshit
PoetryCollection of poetry, parts of short stories, and the occasional rant written by an artist who is angrier than she'd like to admit.
