A Tortured Soul
Do you even know what's happening with my soul?
It's been twisting, it's been shouting -
I've got the poison in my roots, and in my
Being; it's spreading to every inch, ever quartered section.
When they look at my skin, they say
'She's got the devil in her, leave him alone'.
But I need rest too, where's my reprieve?
The angels are nearer to me than most would believe.
Every crack and dent of mine fills deeper with sand,
And I can barely breathe. I don't know how I still stand.
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Comments about this poem (A Tortured Soul by Bianca Free )
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