parent (Remove filter)
She Who Is Called A Monster
Her world once ran on her behalf,
She freely enjoyed her stuff,
Brushing the town so confidently,
Proudly showing her beauty.
Walking towards a long road,
Her body broke,
Pain spreading deep into her bones,
Yet she holds on to hope.
Inside her tiny little body,
She carries majesty,
That's what is called a baby,
A forerunner that will l...
Monday 23rd December 2024 9:13 am
Recent Comments
Philip Stevens on This Imaginary Life-Part 3 (Nature)
1 hour ago
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: You Watched the Trains Come, You Watched the Trains Go
8 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
13 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
1 day ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago