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Oct 2017
Sad and sunken, sloppy
Reclining in their paperback seats
Heads lolling forward like they are made of
The rags they are clothed in.

Rags they sleep with. Clutched like a child's
Blankie to hold them down on the
Concrete bed made from their cold and hard
Voice,
But soft words, that built their bones
And concaved skulls, empty but

Open like a bowl to be filled,
Like their stomachs will remain unfilled,
Like their stomachs
Decaying,
Un-used and un-taught.

Soft, sloping, shoulders,
Slick but slump tongue,
Too heavy at the base of their throats
To speak and sigh,
They sway in their hollow frames
And sink lower in the cold.
Simone Zona
Written by
Simone Zona  17/F/HOGWARTS
(17/F/HOGWARTS)   
  377
     Mystic904 and ---
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