She is used to saw-like tongues
That peel layers of her skin
Thinning her like the bark of a tree.
She is used to touch that bruised her skin
Like a hedge trimmer plucking leaves.
She was taught that her voice was never
Supposed to rise above the wind.
I wish she knew that
She's pinned to the ground like roots,
And it's her birth right to bloom.
YOU ARE READING
Love and other Drugs ✔️
PoetryYou must know real war To walk into my life with No bulletproof vest on⚔️ This is my book of poetry about love in all forms: growth, healing and other drugs. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life! 🦄 WARNING: This is m...
