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8. 10. 2004

Break

Sticks and stones
have all been thrown,
and names will never save me.
I can’t land on open hands forever.
They’re fists.
Sorry, but they drove me to it.
My clothes are torn.
My scars are shown.
I can’t hide them anymore.

This entry was posted by Dylan October 10th, 2004 and is tagged: Poetry . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

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Dylan

Pleased to meet you! I'm Dylan Kinnett, your friendly neighborhood writer.

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Hi! My name is Dylan Kinnett.

I'm a writer, living in Baltimore, MD. I'm working on sprucing this site a bit, but for now you can browse through several years worth of random notes. Let me know what you think!

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