She stares at a blade of grass, green and fragile...like her. She's not green as in color. She is green as in envy and fragile as in weak. "If only we were flowers," she whispered to the plant. "Then we would be cared for instead of cut down." The girl sighs and rips the blade in half. "Why me?"
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Endless Thoughts
PoetryThis is my collection of poems. I love to write when I'm upset, so brace yourself for some pretty depressing stuff😅 But since my writing depends on my mood, there may be some happy-lovey poems or short stories. Comment and give me some ideas. Follo...
