An injured deer lay in front of me.
The brooding forest
Tries to take her away.
I lean to help it up,
Assisting as it leads me.
She is home.
They are safe.
As for me...
Left to wander.
Lost in the torture of trees.
Repeating the process.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of thought
PoesíaPoems and aspirations of my mind. Sometimes short stories [Not constantly updated]
