I hate hearing
people call me a 'strong young woman'.
I am not strong.
I cry myself to sleep
under the mountain of stress
placed upon my shoulders.
I am not young.
My soul has been through more
than this body ever has,
a millennia of pain being pressed against this form.
I may be a woman,
but I feel like a child.
A little girl trapped in the world of giants
and a body that does not match my soul.
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoesíaWhen 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...
