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It is really tough
for abused children to grow...
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Waiting,
swimming...
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Tears in my cookie dough
makes salt rivers flow...
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When I gaze upon a summery shade of sorrow
wilted dreams within my acoustic tears...
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Mostly
I think that I am going to die alone...
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Is it blood or wine
that dyed the holy rivers...
-
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My heart prickles in pain
remembering how lonely...
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Planted by hands unknowingly sprouted
a birthing of graceful complexity...
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The wind breathes on a flower
at first gentle, then with force...
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First attempt at a Senryu. My apologies if it's...
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I shall grow very old,
within a mind shelter...
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After a long evening
of mental anguish...