Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2015
*******
I am a *******.

My hands are not my own,
my words are spoken for me.
I do not have a choice
in where my legs drag me.

If not a *******, then what?
furies
Written by
furies  19/F
(19/F)   
794
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems