Poem : WOUNDED

Tonight I peel off layers of secrets buried deep
And the hurt overflows from the lesions
As I rub salt on them.
The ink from my old wounds spill onto these pages;
A relentless token of those tattered bandages.
It’s like walking on broken glass;
Only that agony could compare
To the yawning gashes that your words inflicted.
-SmalleeWrites✍🏼
 
Time is but motion, age daily wasteth and zeal is only depressing.
These are the tales that the night time bares.
In other news, I will start a series today so.. Watch this space.
 

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