She sits atop her throne, spinning
A double-edged string of sharp remarks,
they flow in a train
Compartment after compartments of you are not good enough’s
and no one cares for you
and you’re lying to yourself, if you think you were important to them.
Slicing open ancient wounds that have barely healed
She sits atop her throne, never satiated, always hungry
feeding on my open wounds.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
The absence of you is a dull achealways there, I take every OTC med I can get my hands on, but nothing works.because when it
Hypocrite I called them hypocrites for calling themselves Christians and judging me for wearing earrings to church. They called her a hypocrite for dating the
She scrunches up her face and bites her lip, as if the music is coming from deep inside her, Gallops in a figure eight around