Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2018
Shake,
my hands do violently.
Carousel horses why do you run from me?
In a world stuck spinning,
I am a girl caught thinning.
Carousel horses, how can this be?
All my dreams, they do escape
and I, a women of the flock, always await.
Carousel horses, will you hear my plea?
So I pray;
my hands do violently,
shake.
she remains anon
Written by
she remains anon  16/F/TX
(16/F/TX)   
853
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems