Poetry
FLOWER ON THE WALL I get upfrom the filthy bedand crawluntil I hit a wall,Sittingand leaning on it,my feverish bodyshakes violentlyprotesting,of how coldthe walls to my back,but it is somehowsoothing,it gives metemporary relief,from the burn marksof warmthI once trusted. Each secondthat passedweighs heavilyon my eyes,But...
