Her poetry made me wonder
If she was a victim or just a lover.
Slavery had never been so liberating,
Even sadness seemed addictive.
Her words turned chaos into art,
She made destruction sound so beautiful.
-She was beautifully broken.
YOU ARE READING
A Hundred Roses
PoetryAnd suddenly, I couldn't tell anymore if it was me the one reading her words or her words were the ones that kept reading my soul
