She is drowing,
she isn't breathing.
She's losing control,
she's going insane.
She needs help,
she's dying.
She is slipping,
she is leaving.
She will be gone soon,
she is sad.
She is angry,
she's gone bad.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
