Untitled Confessional


The hardness of where my wrists rested day after day.
The chaffing underneath each thigh from where I sat.
Agony.
Easier to bear the more I thought of change,
and what that would take.
I bore it as a burden none the less.
Changes I wanted never happened.
Those I feared stayed at bay.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem