Monday, May 11, 2015

Six Word Novel's - Poetry by Rachel Cee

Hurt, hurt, hurt, cry, cry, cry.


I won't go with you until now.

Go to prison now, end it.


The woods were a walk, labrynth begin.

Darkness, Colors, Doors, Sounds, Worry, Light. 

How do I know my years?

Eternal Alice, Alice over? Call it.

The little trees root digs deep.

Churning stomachs flop in unison, divers.

Flyers form the line, we remember all. 

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