Friday, May 11, 2012

Invisible Scars Comments

Rating: 5.0

Your words, like whips, that swing through the air
Unbidden. But no one seems to care;
life goes on. No one knows how I feel
when my skin stings: the whips, for me, are real.


Shannon Atherton
S M 09 March 2014

a nice poemm expressing what happens in bulling most probably or a friend backstabbing.. both are such bad experiances....

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