Apples of the Hall
Heard it in the hallway,
None knew it floated my way.
They seem to stage whisper,
In tones that are crisper.
What they say is quite alarming
And very much disarming.
Why keep pretending?
Your words are descending!
The things you say behind my back,
Feels like a brutal attack.
You shall not know your slice,
For I will continue to be nice.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.