Home was safe
There were no bumps
Or knocks that hurt
Me because I was
Burrowed deep underneath
Skin.
I was irritating
I kept being scratched and
Picked at but little did
They know it only made me
Angrier.
I had friends under the skin
Fellow blackheads, whiteheads, and
everyone in between.
I was the happiest I've ever been.
But I felt something
Something different
Different touch maybe
Maybe a squeeze and then
Then out I came splattering
Splattering and bursting
Bursting through the hole which
Which was my home
Home was safe
Safe I was not
Not anymore
About the Creator
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More stories from Mae Crosby and writers in Poets and other communities.
Wingless Angel
I start my day like every other day: wake up at 6:30 in the morning, go to the gym for an hour, come home, shower, and eat. Breakfast is different though. It consists of eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast. Usually it's blueberries, strawberries, two raw eggs, spinach, and two apples blended together. No, it's not the best-tasting, but it keeps me healthy and in shape. I have no plans for today for it was the weekend, and I don't work on the weekend. I have no friends and no pets. It's just me, myself, and I. It can get lonely at times, but I also enjoy the peace and quiet. My breakfast is bland. I need to spice it up with something.
By Mae Crosby4 years ago in Fiction
One Hard Thing
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: You have the number, you know your schedule- you’ve even picked out the perfect day and time to make this appointment. Shoot, you’ve even picked out alternative days and times just in case their schedules can’t accommodate you!
By Taylor Rigsby2 days ago in Motivation
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