I close my eyes
I hear sound but I am not sure what it is
It feels like wind
But not any wind
This wind is salted
The sound of the tents flapping
It employs freedom
As I look down at the sea
I close my eyes
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Llion the Brave Version 2
Her screams diminished as Llion was dragged away from the cell. The stench in the corridor was less but there was still damp, decay, defecation, death. His feet dragged, like a raggedy puppet, the guard either side of him holding him fast. He could feel their individual fingers digging into his scant flesh, leaving their impression on his bones.
By Rachel Deeming4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Gosh this felt so blissful and liberating! Loved your poem so much!