Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jobeth Bufi Jul 2016
Stretching up tiny little fingers to the sky,
Weeping out, forcing these unsaid words into the gut,
Breaking all 206 fragments of me,
Refusing to raise the white garment that declares,
It’s not yet over,
I will soar higher.
Somewhere out of reach,
Where the eye can never meet,
But first, I’ll be sober,
From all the despair,
Take a sip of honesty, that’s all I need.

— The End —