The kindest words my father said to me: women like you drown oceans. ~Rupi kaur
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My hand never came to be,
That mark on the oak tree.
The scar that decorates my left knee never ceased to exist.
Everything I was meant to be never shaped the world or in between.
My laugh never stretched the walls,
The brown hair rippling down my back exterior figure, never could be recalled.
Bruises generally tinted the wrist faded into the background.
And tears won't sting the eyes for the demon inside.
The rhythm of my heart that's fueled more than just blood,
Existed in nothing mere of a shrug.
Particles of dirt, grim, and love,
Grumbles in a swirl of matter.
And the breath intakes as whispers of the wind never pierces the skin,
Of the foes and friends of the never created kid.
Written on April 13, 2017
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Delusions of A Voiceless Creature
PoetryDetailed Poetry that will ripple through your body and impale you with emotions; emotions you were suffocating with the light God has given you.
