Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
I am nothing but a bag of unnecessary rocks slung over your shoulder. I am nothing but the wisps of smoke drifting from a cigarette, slowly fading as I travel in to the night. I am nothing but the cracks on a stranger's windshield after their hit and run- a flashback that will bring pain and guilt in to your shell. I am nothing but a hindrance, a fleeting thought, a horrid memory.
nichole r
Written by
nichole r
577
   Manda Clement, Frisk and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems