I was before reticent
until now.
To shut people out
only is my choice.
So come to me
not to oblige me
to tell.
You do not deserve
to hear my screams
for all you wanted
was to hark all
my whispers,
my tales.
Sorry, not sorry
'cause I am not your fantasy,
I am the nightmare of reality.
YOU ARE READING
She
Poetry"A book is she that has countless pages, blood is her inks, and her pain writes." This story contains prose and short poetries that is all about a woman's point of view of love and life.
