My body is my temple,
not a place for your eyes
seeking a home to reside.
I carry,
the water passed on to me
by my ancestors,
this flesh from my mother
and blood strength from my father.
How can I let your demons subside?
Perhaps you might call me the weaker sex,
but I'm not fragile.
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken: A collection of poetry
PoetryThis book contains some pieces of poetry which had been left unspoken by me, by you, by the world. ❤
