Breathe, through pearls that have rotten in coke, down the chute where smoke belongs; breathe in the little bags of bespoke air — breathe.
Breathe, because with every particle that you made yours, you steal off another.
Breathe, because you know you have it all and the rest does not matter.
(d.r.)
YOU ARE READING
Black & Poisonous
Poesia"She had 50 days left to live. She had 5000 words left to say." A compilation of 50-word poems by a child who longed to see a better future than the one they've set for themselves. Each piece takes 12 seconds to read. #833 - 27/05/17 #687 - 28/05...
