He's ruthless
His touch is heavy and leaves marks
His eyes a piercing brown that could kill with one look
His voice is deafening to my ears
His scent is toxic to my lungs
You can feel a man like him in a room
His anger radiating like a power he can't control
I will never love a man like my father.
And believe me, I've met them.
-MissRoub
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Growth
PoetryGrowth; something that has grown or is still growing. I consistently find myself doing the things I don't know how to do in order to learn how to do them. I've taught myself to grasp the fact that change is inevitable, growth is optional. I understa...
