Solid Abstraction
- Reads 76
- Votes 5
- Parts 8
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Tue, Aug 2, 2016
Brittle nails
Scratching dry skin
Cold arms
Holds tiny frame
Crushing bones
Into dust
Dust turns to dreams
Dreams turn to nightmares
Nightmares turn to reality
And there is no escape
Transparent eyelids
Blink ever so slowly
Showcasing glossy eyes
Blue orbs
Empty blue orbs
Tiny frame
Becomes even tinier
Brittle nails
Become even more brittle
Dry skin
Becomes chapped
There never was anyone holding tiny frame
Tiny frame
Was holding
Herself.
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#689
freedom
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I write these poems when I hit my low points I hope if anyone reads this you enjoy
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