Fostered,
but never really given away,
still shackled to the fray,
and the leech that swims down and feasts.
You were air,
until you held my nose
and cut off my clothes.
A paramedic
or three men in a trenchcoat;
I don’t know.
Bag over my head,
I still leave notes behind.
I hope you read them,
I hope you cry.
-
Author:
Florence Mango (
Offline) - Published: May 25th, 2022 10:52
- Comment from author about the poem: You were supposed to keep me safe, but you loved me the wrong way.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments1
It is extremely sad when trust is betrayed, and used as the vehicle for abuse.
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