Poetry by Becky
No needles on the floor,no pine scent filling the room.Lights packed awayin darkness.No gifts or garland,no carols or family gatherings.Only silence,mixed with chaos.That forgotten yearwhen the world stopped,just before Christmas.
I never learned the rules about meter or metaphor, or what not to say out loud. I just write what lives inside me: the bruises, the blossoms...
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