i asked for my steak raw
a bloody, bruised...still breathing calf
when he asked me how i felt
i said i felt raw
unclothed on a center stage
where everyone and i mean everyone..
could see me unraveling
-y.s
YOU ARE READING
plastic flowers
Poetrylife is never perfect. it's messy and even the most perfect people put on a face. just like plastic flowers, from afar i can look put together but up close i'm everything but. *a collection of poems*
