personal growth (Remove filter)
When His Words Become Hands
His words could become sharp as corners
And trap you there
Flailing in his grasp
They could pinch your skin
Until you cried
And cried
Throughout your shifts
They could catch your wrists and stop you
From moving on
From moving
They could lock the doors, no leaving
They could shame you and shrink you
They could come flying in from an open window,
A buzzing phon...
Monday 8th March 2021 7:27 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Forget-Me-Not
46 seconds ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Reference in Rhyme
4 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Life in blues.
7 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Gray Hair
9 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on MARIGOLD
12 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on To My Wonderful Son On Your Birthday
17 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Between Morning and Night
20 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Beacons
23 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Another Old Poem
26 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on For Patrick Bocarde
40 minutes ago