It's the morning after,
still haven't bled.
Sweat across my forehead;
Running down my face.
Last night was raining.
Should've worn my rain coat.
Days went by
and I'm getting sick.
I'm always hungry, Mr Coat Hanger
My stomach is bulging
I feel like scrambled eggs.
I wish there was a safer way.
Mister, your so bloody now.
YOU ARE READING
The Atrium
PoesíaAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
