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untitled 2

Tip toeing up my spine
A short distance for his hands to travel
I imitate the sounds of sleep,  
But I stare at the bleak wall.  
Why do adults hate colour?
 
Hot breathe scolds my neck,  
And Tip toes loose composure
Mutating into the heavy feet of monsters  
stomping into my skin, there going to steal my body
I close my eyes; this won’t last forever.
louiseri
Written by louiseri
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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