Poetry

Sorrow

Sorrow

Sorrow led her parade and it was shrouded by heavy curtains that sat on her shoulders and they drooped a little as to not bring attention to the bulging, impenetrable mesh of a scar above her eyes that held her cries.

Silver

Silver

  I sit atop this ornate stand my shine and luster polluted by cloth and intrusive hand As the layer thickens each time a reminder whispers, you’re that shiny silver … It’s time to be buffed or you’ll be banned I want…

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