Caroline_13
Junior Member

A member of the Poetry.com vibrant community of poetry lovers.

Joined: August 2021 Last seen: 2 years ago

Submitted Poems 1 total

Pretty Eyes Speak Is it the blood on my hands? Is it the dirt on my feet? Why must one be so happy, so alone, but somehow free? Free like the breeze. Free like a lemon growing on a tree. Fall Trip Die That’s how close I am to getting... – *by Caroline*	5 Views added 2 years ago	Rating

Speak

Is it the blood on my hands?
Is it the dirt on my feet?

Why must one be
so happy,
so alone,
but somehow free?

Free like the breeze.
Free like a lemon growing on a tree.

Fall
Trip
Die
That’s how close I am to getting...

– by Caroline

5 Views

added 2 years ago

Rating

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