Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2017
Im like an ashen cigarette
Most days are burning with regret
I bruised her hand,
I wont forget
My sister was a body spent
And some days this is all I do
I just sit, and write,
And talk to you
Our lungs coated,
Lips past blue
What the **** can I even do?
Two months ago my sister died from  "complications  from cystic fibrosis"
I miss her so ******* much.
My sisters dead?...
My baby sister.
Where are you???
Anna
Written by
Anna
  469
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems