Its on the walls
Covered by flowers,
Its on the ceiling
Hung by strings,
Its on the ground
And Buried beneath,
All the evidence
You would need.
Its here
I’m telling you
Why can’t you see.
Why don’t you believe.
That though I stand in this room void of things,
The things they had shot,
Constructed from bullet like syllables that formed grenade like words,
that tasted like poisonous sentences that eventually stopped me from leaving
This room, empty.
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About the Creator
Harleen 🤎
I don’t know how to get people to understand what I’m saying, sometimes I don’t even know myself, but suddenly when I write it down it all makes sense✨🤎 :)
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