Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
He spits onto my face,
And I wonder why
I'm still alive.
He shoves me against the wall,
hands at my throat,
And I remember that
death isn't enough
of a punishment for me.
"... is living."
WickedHope
Written by
WickedHope  27/F/Not Boston, Almost Hell
(27/F/Not Boston, Almost Hell)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems