The last time I saw her, her teeth were black
Her legs were as thin as broomsticks
Her hair was falling out in clumps
Her skin was pale yellow
My mother was rotting before my eyes
-cancer
YOU ARE READING
Yellow Flowers
PoezjaThis is the story of both the rotten parts of life and the growth that results from the wisdom gained from adversity and pain. You are holding my heart, soul, and life in your hands. Treat it kindly and gain from its lines whatever you seek; comfort...
