Monthly Archives: July 2014

Ten Years Old

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit at a typewriter and bleed.” -Ernest Hemingway Ten years old There is a wound that never heals A brown, crusty, scabrous shroud overlies it Like fragile bark on a young … Continue reading

Posted in Poems about Life, Poems about pain, Poems about sadness and tragedy, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment