Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2016
The shattered fragments of my childhood savior
I can see right through my broken future.
I guess these windows are hung
Glass shards flow into my chest
Piercing into the area you left.
Glass isn’t suppose to break that young.
Looking through the window pane.
All I can feel is pain.
Short poem, mainly just a small practice. Might come back to it. Not sure.
vic
Written by
vic
Please log in to view and add comments on poems