I saw a pretty girl today,
wearing a pretty dress.
Black and flowy,
with no sleeves.
She had marks up her arms,
that looked like they stung.
Red slashes like tally marks,
of the days she's suffered.
I wanted to tell her that she would be okay,
and give her a hug.
I guess I was just too shy,
to reach out.
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
