deepundergroundpoetry.com
Broken
The winter's wind
Cleanses my face
And cut's the tears
From my eyes
I had plans
But you sat
In judgement
Of my feelings
Razor words
That left
Sceptic scars
which never heal
I bleed
Contaminated joy
Over unwashed
Breakfast bowls
Cleanses my face
And cut's the tears
From my eyes
I had plans
But you sat
In judgement
Of my feelings
Razor words
That left
Sceptic scars
which never heal
I bleed
Contaminated joy
Over unwashed
Breakfast bowls
Published 26th Jan 2014
| Edited 27th Jan 2014
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