PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Years ago she bent her breath around her life,

tore its own worth into pieces

but no matter, she lives a better

existence now, smooth roads and sunshine slopes.

Even though she knows she matters

in so many stick figures’ fates and letters

she cries,

if I’m lost tell me

if I’m sinking again

because I can only count on one hand

if drowning ends the desert girl.

She comes to life with the sunset,

she’s built wings of flawless dreams,

stealing raindrops, giving time

you would think she floats but

Her shell sings tales of the lives

she’s left behind, so ironic

because the only thing she breathed and wanted

and she couldn’t ever find

is submerged in the deathly shadow stalking her.