I Am a Poet
My work is not meant to be beautiful.
My work is meant to be poetic…
My work is not meant to be beautiful.
My work is meant to be poetic…
A single word
A single phrase
A single expression
Of some praise…
“Guns don’t kill people”
What do you call the bullets
Shredding through fluid flesh…
“You see? You’ll never be able to see me. Not really.” She gives a chuckle, his blood on her arm mixing with her own…
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The girl who stopped
The truth pouring from her words
Out of fear of what it might reveal…
Alone in the rushing silence,
She craves the quiet of a crowd…