Learn more about other poetry terms
I’ve been here before Way too many times. I’ve spent countless nights in terror Letting out frantic cries. I’ve plotted my death Again, again, and again. I’m willing to give up this fight, After all, it seems to have no end To you, to him, to her
Dear motherland When can I come home? I sleep On a bed A hundred wars Away from you. The air is cold
While the world splits meAnd everythingIn twos,The only option that fits meI'm not allowed to choose.When I tuck up my hairIt's not to impress you.So don't tell me what I should wear.
It feels soft, smooth, curves at the bust.