I drew blood from a stone
I gave flowers to a crone
I lit fire out of bone
I fed sinners to atone
Past stitched and sown
No breath, no tone
Nothing to call my own
Hey guys, I am sorry for this late posting. I have been working on a longer post and I really want to refine it and write something good for yall <3. Furthermore, I am currently writing a specific poem to accompany the aforementioned post. I freestyled this poem for you as a sorry… Enjoy.
Lëtz Write 
Love this one and especially the sewing metaphor seems strangely relevant. It’s like it’s holding everything together: hushing something up and covering it, hiding it away.
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