Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2017
When I was a kid
And still, sometimes
In the rain, or the dark
Even standing in a sunbeam,
I would imagine my skin
Dripping like paint on canvas
The bones beneath turning to dust
carried away on a small breeze
It sounds silly, i know
I wanted to be so much more
I wanted the light to get in
Georgia Marginson-Swart
Written by
Georgia Marginson-Swart  22/F/London
(22/F/London)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems