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...