Photo by Rajesh S Balouria via Pexels
Bunched like wires pulled from a box,
muscles and tendons,
pulled taut over brittle bones.
I am made of dust,
held together by spite and willpower alone.
Drip, drip, drip -
it leaks from the tank,
from heavy eyes,
pools unseen like ink from a shattered well.
"how are you? You look tired,"
Say it with an inverted smile.
Oh really?
How can you tell?
About the Creator
S. A. Crawford
Writer, reader, life-long student - being brave and finally taking the plunge by publishing some articles and fiction pieces.
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