Her wounds
are silent invitations —
for anyone who wishes to see
what her soul is made of.
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PoetryThings I write in the middle of the night when I can't sleep or whenever I feel the need to put my heart into words. Poems•Prose•Short Stories•Artworks
Take a Peek
Her wounds
are silent invitations —
for anyone who wishes to see
what her soul is made of.
