when she finally spoke,
her meek voice escaped
the nearness of my ear.
her words were
stained glass shards;
brutal.
YOU ARE READING
t w e n t y
Poetryin which a girl indirectly shares her dying hope in t w e n t y words ~ The fire in her eyes had long diminished, and her scars had long unravelled, but the only remnant she dared to share, of her battered mind, was kept in the braided breaths an...
vocal cords
when she finally spoke,
her meek voice escaped
the nearness of my ear.
her words were
stained glass shards;
brutal.
