"Don't you go playing
With that boy," one day
My mumma said, "But
Why?" what happened
To him, to make his heart
Go cold, hard, a shield he
Hoped would help build
An indestructible wall
Hiding it from more angry
Mouths, more fists painting
His skin purple, fading to
Blue, then to a dull hue. He
Sat in the sandpit, tears
Staining his white shirt
Dried blood covering the
Bridge of his nose, down
To a split lip, "He's damaged
Goods," she told me, walking
Away before I could ask more
Inevitable, coming questions.
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Copyright 2017 smokeupthe-moon.
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Creativity *Poetry*
PoetryAll Rights Reserved Copyright 2016 @smokeupthe-moon. I wish I knew what to say, Have a mind full of words Yet to be spoken, to be written, Colored in every shade of the rainbow, Cover emotions with how the human eye can see, This is...
