Hollow bullets shred my skin
scratch arms, legs
without warning hair is wet
matted with strange new drops
of everlasting tears
Hands grasp wrists
that break too easily
disgusted with the eternity
of plastic bags hanging from
the tree branches
I am not
you are not either
a small animal hidden
in the cave with other
living breathing dolls
We are less than
Tall blue irises smell
like you
have you ever considered
the sweet taste of white tea leaves
in the burning sun
They taste just like you
YOU ARE READING
Värvitud sinised linnud
PoetryVärvitud sinised linnud on kurvad. Nad ei nuta, vaid raputavad tiibasid ja pritsivad värvi. Kogumik luuletustest nii inglise kui ka eesti keeles. / The colored blue birds are sad. They will not cry, but shake their feathers and spray paint. This is...
