Poems from AmberCheyenne
I am erratic.
A giddy, round-eyed, five-year old.
A rocker who has too much soul.
Who cried when the wind blows the wrong way.
Who giggles...
She tugs at her sleeves
hiding her cold, white hands.
With trembling lips,
she breathes.
Her soul compresses,
lungs collapse,
heart...