Blood. Poisoned.
A Paper Poetry
Published in
Dec 25, 2021
“My world has ended,”
She told me, dry-eyed
“I have nothing left to live for.”
She had stopped crying.
“I have no more tears left,”
she had announced to me.
How could I tell her,
This child who thought
I was counselling her,
that the most painful tears
Are those that stop behind the eyes
And course back into the heart
As poisoned blood?
