She painted her wrist,
Her life was mess.
People knew her when she smiles,
Her wrist reared red butterflies.
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Never Sent (Completed)
PoesiaIt was then she said: "Words fed, scathed, brought my soul together; and it would be preposterous if I'd get to feel all these sensations alone, so I am giving you a part of my suffering, a fragment of my universe, a debris of myself. Through these...
Butterflies (Stanza Edition)
She painted her wrist,
Her life was mess.
People knew her when she smiles,
Her wrist reared red butterflies.
