Tight as a ball I curl
My armour against the mental knives.
Like bony fingers
Between my ribs
Each word hits
And finds its target, soft.
And old wounds reopen
As power leaks away
My armour against the mental knives.
Like bony fingers
Between my ribs
Each word hits
And finds its target, soft.
And old wounds reopen
As power leaks away
1 comment:
Beautiful writing; wishing you peace. x
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