Distortion A wilted sunflower speaks to me in waves. We both know what we once were, Bright. Full. Unprotected from external elements. Her petals and my mind wither away, A response to rough hands and sharp edges. I hold the
Tag: poem
The Invaders by Abigail Hjort
The Invaders the music blocks out the roar of the invaders in my mind the lions scrape their teeth against the ridges of each lobe like flames against charring flesh my thoughts just burn away and all that’s left is