12-16-2018, 03:19 PM
Gravel punctures the tire's lung
and I roll down the hill into the brush,
branches clawing at my face
and hands, drawing blood.
I stand up slowly,
stones stuck inside the skin
I wear above my heart.
and I roll down the hill into the brush,
branches clawing at my face
and hands, drawing blood.
I stand up slowly,
stones stuck inside the skin
I wear above my heart.