poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
Where do I begin? What do I do? How do I do this? Where do I begin Unpicking the stitches? The Ones woven into our Blanket? The Fabric has been ripped apart, Slit down the Centre, Jagged, Across all the Edges, Cut with his Own hands. Wounded, there was Blood Seeping out of his Chest, […]