Little Maria
Soft and sweet
Fell upon
The hard concrete
Of words her father spat at her
She closed her eyes, trembled in fear
Walls arose within her heart
Sorrow seemed to never depart
Bleeding tears of innocent blood
Meandering down into the mud
Which lay beneath her ashen face
While her parents screamed
Called her a disgrace
Little Maria
Soft and sweet
Felt her little being
Gently deplete...
~How I wish I was writing fiction. Yet some of us hold scars from mere words, spat at us from a tender age~
YOU ARE READING
Who Will Reach Them?
Thơ caThrough these poems I ask you to awaken from your spiritual and mental slumber. The world needs you, reach out, help them before it is too late.
