Maybe we write poems
to seek refuge in the depth
of the metaphors.
Maybe we write poems
to let each verse
free us from the mundane.
Tag: #poems #poetry
And Fragile She Was
And fragile she was,
pulled, pushed, stretched
by the cold, unforgiving wind
and rain that was violent.
She did not scream nor cry
for she was sure it was fate.
She let them hurl her.
She let them hurt her.
She did not break nor loose,
but each limb fell one by one
until nothing was left to wither
but her skeleton on the ground
MESSYPENS 