Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
we have yet to close the eyes of our youth
we stick their hands into a boiling ***
cover their ears from the slight moan of truth
feeding sweet nothings till their teeth rot

age seven
yet petrified of existence
bliss was tangible in glimpses of innocence
Theresa Marie
Written by
Theresa Marie
331
   Brent Fisher
Please log in to view and add comments on poems