Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2013
Pages exploit me.
Users will use me.
Sun will watch me until nothing is left,
to watch.
People will ask me, "Why, where do you come from, misfavoured soul?"
I will tell them I come from the sea, where pebbles wash the surface and where glass is made into porcelain rock.
Rock ...
nobody rocks me to sleep, any longer.

I stand at the window.
I watch.
I leave.

Misguide.
Emily Ould
Written by
Emily Ould
705
   ---, --- and Conor Wilson
Please log in to view and add comments on poems