So beautiful to the touch. But I shouldn’t, I am in remorse from my own soul dying at the hands of another. So beautiful to the touch. But wait. But stop. But wait. But stop. I whirl my body around with questions. I whirl I twirl I run. But my mind won’t stop its route. Don’t you dare I tell my own hands as they fumble and they fall. Don’t you dare I tell my heart, as it fumbles and it falls. Don’t you dare, I tell my soul that no longer exists. Do as you wish I tell my mind, because it is all that is left.
SAW 04/08-09/2014 My Poem.
This is my poem. Please don’t steal, take, or use my work.