I rub my skin
but the itch,
it's too deep.
Too deep
to reach,
I rub to
allow
some
thing
out.
Not blood,
not bone,
when
will
my
skin
feel
like
home?
-HIRAYA.
YOU ARE READING
1:11
PoetryBetween sunsets and sunrises are a bunch of poems that may mean nothing or may mean everything. Between sunsets and sunrises I am not afraid of the dark, I am fond of it. Part II of The Zeros. Made it to the wattys shortlist!
