Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
We are all born soft.
Floating into the hands of others.
Some don’t know how to hold on,
brush our hair back,
make a point to smile,
protect our tears in their palm.  
Instead,
they poke at us.
Say no
and go
with a firm fist.
Their claws try to embrace us,
but they only scratch the surface.
With so many punctures,
our insides drain.
Sinking,
we become skin and bones,
too hard to reach.
Erin Riley
Written by
Erin Riley
133
   MS Anjaan
Please log in to view and add comments on poems