Fallout Girl Poem by Carolyn Vuletic

Fallout Girl



These people we call our own
who hold us and make it fine
spit, and lie and die
and hurt exceeds me
You see me, broken, ill, bent
you felt pain, I feel no gain
Its a broken piece of my being, who stupidly holds onto you
No realness
Just extreme nothing

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Carolyn Vuletic

Carolyn Vuletic

Johannesburg, South Africa
Close
Error Success