Blood stains every gift
coats pressed to hide their intent
I rise to reclaim
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
I keep dreaming. Never the same place but always searching for Daddy. No words. No sound. Just a feeling that he went East.
By Test7 months ago in Poets
I can’t remember the last time I truly said goodbye. Or if I ever did— when would have been the moment? Was it when I was sixteen,
By Natasha Collazo6 days ago in Poets
Swirl in a teacup, spin round and round. Leaves in a saucer, earthly bound. Broom to the forehead eyes to the ground. Eyes to the heavens
By N J Delmas3 days ago in Poets
As most will know who follow my work, I’m rather fond of being Scottish. While it’s not a kind of horrific patriotism that puts other nations down, it is a sense of pride that I was born here.
By Paul Stewart5 days ago in Humans
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