Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2021
Unraveled, the ribbons which bound my delicate constitution are loosed upon the ground and piled in concentric whorls. In the scant moment before my collapse I consider whether I’ll break first at the waist or neck.
Bleeding Edge
Written by
Bleeding Edge  The Woods
(The Woods)   
14
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems