Both of you pricked me like a needle,
Both of you corrupted my love,
Planted perverse ideas in my soft head,
And weaved your tapestry's through the blank canvas that is my skin.
But one of you was a storm, a foreign storm that brought my entire sense of justice and belonging to halt.
And the other, you were no lover, for lovers give and you took my freedom. You were an addiction.
YOU ARE READING
A Culmination Of Realities
PoetryAs we float through life, victimized by circumstance and stalked by rumours, we come to understand that false rumours have opposites: realities. These are the realities to which this book is dedicated. These realities share only truth, for some are...
