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"misfavoured" poems
Pages exploit me. Users will use me. Sun will watch me until nothing is left, to watch. People will ask me, "Why, where do you come from, misfavoured soul?" I will tell them I come from the sea, where pebbles wash the surface and where glass is made into porcelain rock. Rock ... nobody rocks me to sleep, any longer. I stand at the window. I watch. I leave. Misguide.
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Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
emily-ould
Misguided.
Pages exploit me. Users will use me. Sun will watch me until nothing is left, to watch. People will ask me, "Why, where do you come from, misfavoured soul?" I will tell them I come from the sea, where pebbles wash the surface and where glass is made into porcelain rock. Rock ... nobody rocks me to sleep, any longer. I stand at the window. I watch. I leave. Misguide.
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