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.
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."
(26/F/Not Boston, Almost Hell)
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
