He dipped his heavy hands into my dainty soul, took out the flowers of my heart. He weaved his weeds into the open wounds to fill the void of space.
I remember screaming out for help, for somebody to save me from the man with the heavy hands.
My screams were silenced by my fear, and he managed to pry my thighs apart, sorry I meant me.
He pried me apart, and turned me inside out. What remained, well let's just say, I will never be the same.
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The Trees Talk
PoetryThe trees talk, they know what goes through your mind. The trees, they scream. +previously Perfection and Deception+
