Castles made of glass
and ribs that look
like the wrong side of
a fist fight ,
warrior by day
survivor by night ,
eyes that are deep wells,
lips-bloodstained because
of bites of nervousness of
sights of innocence being
ripped apart like paper
from walls that were
built never to be crossed ,
black smoke wrapping around
a carcass like a vine
call it a nightmare ,
I'll call it my life.
(V.P)
(P.S if you liked my poems please vote and also give my new project ' You called me Simon before' a read. Thank you. xoxo)
