Poems from ashleykdixon
When the room is still,
you can hear the untencil
briskly brush the paper.
I can hear
my thoughts, my fears,
my,
emotions thump at the...
What are we to them? Clearly something whose soul
Should be ripped from their body.
They see our vertical spine, and decide the differences...
I do not know whether or not they can hear you,
but you won’t SHUT the------ up
Everyday I hear your wining and emotions,
your fears, and...