Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2023
the demon asks what i need hands for. voice like mildew on lost books. i don’t know how to answer. prayer, i say. begging. combing my hair. nothing important, the demon says. i don’t agree. i can’t let them go
Written by
Mote  31/F/Michigan
Please log in to view and add comments on poems