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chiyierrja

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

16 poems·Since July 2014
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Fear

July 25, 2014

Stephanie is sitting in a chair as she hears her name on an intercom. She slowly stands up and walks to the door in the corner of the room. Before twisting the knob she rubs both of her hands on her pants, rubbing the sweat off. She slowly takes a big deep breath in and out then slowly enters the room. Two doctors standing tell her to have a seat, one says we have bad news.

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