Poems from mhansen721
I feel my pulse throb in my fingers,
Watch as the smoke dances between my swollen digits,
But my head is lost in a haze.
Take another hit...
I write for the English teacher who taught
Music is poetry, and meaning is different for everyone.
A Wooden Heart is a metaphor, a poem...
7 years bad luck
from looking in the mirror
each year a scar,
in my once flawless skin.
Broken glass in hand,
that little voice in my...