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
Tom Doolan on Hope Is Gone
2 hours ago
Ray Miller on Thanks For Sharing
2 hours ago
Landi Cruz on Too late too late
4 hours ago
Robert Mann on Interchangeable Lines.
4 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Disowned...
6 hours ago
John Marks on Me mam
7 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
8 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
8 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on veil of the known
8 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on the poet’s barren tale
9 hours ago