A silent screamA Poem by Luka
My hands are of wax
And my face of Iron Whenever the warmth of a match came within reach My hands would melt and become useless And whenever my friends would try to humour me my face wouldn't move I couldn't move there was so much movement everywhere but I was stuck in place Watching everyone else Pass me by.
© 2025 Luka |
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Added on March 25, 2025 Last Updated on March 25, 2025 |

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