Looming beneath the shadows,
Halo of stars above her head,
Pressed against cold gravel,
Wrapped tight in her coat...
This is where she hides:
Under towers of guilt, pain.
Pitch black dusted with specs of gold above,
She looks up and wishes, wishes, that she
Could be something more than disposable.
Like the knife in her pocket is armour
To be worn in battle, the wounds on her thighs
Are scars of glory: I bleed and live and win.
Unforgiving shadows
That s t r a n g l e
Her, gripped by the
Throat. She can't
Scream. The sky
Swallows her whole.
YOU ARE READING
you are not in wonderland ➵ poems
Poetryan assortment of shitty poetry i write gratuitously in my free time.
