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Sep 3
Poetry feeds my soul
like a needle feeds the thread
upon which you have sewn
your ruby-colored letter A
across my heart,
marking the shame that
I must carry each time
you tell me you love me

and I’m a slave
to you.

there’s no release
no release from the
purgatory that you’ve
placed upon me.

Food for the soul
(I think maybe I am your slave).
Written by
blackbiird  22/F/Louisiana
       Danny, Leah Dell'Osso, Alex Adams and Faith
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