Where do i compare? Where do i possibly fit in? My words do not meet the cut, They are small and fall short Of the poets i watch.
By Miss Storm Erin Hargreaves3 years ago in Poets
my breath comes easily, un bated; unafraid of company, my hands are happily sitting, not anxious not sweating, embraced by knitted sleeves that reach farther than needed, providing something warm and reassuring to grasp at;
She’s crying alone on the floor heart longing to be heard but mind. screaming not to be out of shame As the tears Drip, that drips from when the neighbour called her fat
