I'm a crumpled letter,
Dirty and war torn
dragged through the mud...
and the blood
by some man who went before
Now I'm tucked away
forgotten in this drawer.
Bygone romance of a bygone age
"They don't make them like that anymore"
War's now playfully fought on black mirrors
by soldiers in "skinny jeans"
fighting for dessert
Where's the man who would fight for me?
Now I'm a freedom fighter,
longing for the sea
which knows more of my heart
and is as old as the depths of me
but it's a fight I'll never win
papercuts from crumpled paper...
... they can't even pierce skin.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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