I remember
when I was a child,
I used to blow on the feathers of dandelions.
I would watch the wishes twirl in the wind
to catch on breezes of my own making.
I remember
playing with the white feathers
when I breathed in too hard,
so those wishes flew back
and choked me.
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoetryWhen my demon decided it wanted out, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only watch as bloodied claws pierced my skin and shadows leaked through my eyes in black teardrops. It wanted out, and I was content to let it roam. >>>&g...
