These cream walls, the walls far from yesterday's broken road, far from yesterday's broken homes, far from yesterday's other broken girl.
These cream walls smell like safety and a place to call home.
That once broken girl, is still broken.
Between these cream walls she's got a loving family, now.
No more bruises, now.
No more smoking with the other broken girl, now.
Though that broken girl is still smoking like a chimney.
These cream walls can not protect her from what she's seen, now.
She knows that across the sea, across the board that other broken girl is still standing on that broken road, still living in that broken home but without another broken girl.
YOU ARE READING
This Broken Road
PoetryI have been on an endless mission to unravel the secrets of the writing world. In other words, I went to a class, talk, meeting ish thing with Sarah Crossan and talked to us about writing linked poems ( that's not what she called them but...). So I...
