She was a dynamite, waiting to explode.
Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird.
She smelt like sweet pea every Sunday.
Her eyes were pale and full of hurt.
Storms began to form inside her head.
She sleeps like the wind blowing through.
Her secrets keep her up till 2am.
She wakes up and in fear.
Sweat and tears.
She sits up and everything is clear.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Speak
PoetryA collection of poetry I've been writing from when I was 14 till now.
