Tombstone

My mind is a cemetery 

Haunted by dead dreams and wishes

Every tombstone a little piece of myself,

Labeling the broken parts laid to rest


Watered down soap and a smile in the sink

I forge a flood

And scrub at the life line on my hand

Do you think it's possible to cleanse myself of such frailties?

Previous
Previous

Writer’s Block

Next
Next

Innocent, Naive