Apr 2013
i was young.
frail, i clung
to the ***** hem
of my mother's skirt.
i didn't know it
i couldn't feel it
but i knew
something was wrong.
it started as a
sting, then pounded
through my blood.
then i turned into a chicken.
frail, i clung
to the ***** hem
of my mother's skirt.
i didn't know it
i couldn't feel it
but i knew
something was wrong.
it started as a
sting, then pounded
through my blood.
then i turned into a chicken.
I shall call this a Kandee poem. Because it's very much like Kandee's personality and such. I was bored, so the ending is me being bored, just so you know.
