I do not want my parents to fear that when I leave for school in the morning that they have to hold me tight because it might be the last time.
By Marina Ricci4 years ago in Poets
my Anger started out like a match struck into the new world with a roar and then crackling to life quickly and forcefully
Broken After leaving you I fear that I will no longer be myself. That I'll be too broken to recognize the face in the mirror.
My Angel my angel has beautiful blond curls and eyes the color of the sky and his voice is like creamy caramel and his lips are sweeter than strawberries.