Small boy tender child Wide brown eyes With an angelic smile… That could melt butter - in his mouth While dripping sweet Saccharine like words Of lies and deceit One push Slight of hand Reaches out To be held - poor little sister Cracked skull Echoed cries and life ...swing in the balance Baby dolls …
Tag: physiological
Hell
There are days when little to nothing can move within the close quarters of the walls now self proclaimed as barren – claustrophobia is a weakness to some that steps up when all else fails and yes there is some comfort in the self imprisonment confinement the familiar the nest of being able to reach …
Trilby Yates 