Stain Poem by Amanda Eckols
Stain
poems lik blood do run though my vines
they pulse and push hoping to be freed
the warm liquid does race though my fingertip
it stains the paper and the mind
funny how it never thought it could be lik this
at one pointin time i rather die
then write a poem exposing my self
now without second thoughts I type it in
for the world to see if the dare to look
this lil gurl who wants not to grow up
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 9:56:24 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
