My arms
Are freckled with bruises
My legs bear the markings
Of laborLooking down at my body,
Strewn with patches
Painted in hues of yellow and green,
I can't help
But to think that
Perhaps my bruised exterior
Matches the rubble of the town
That the tornado left for me04/24/23
YOU ARE READING
[ p o e t r y 2]
PoetryVolume II of my life's poetry work As with my first volume, these poems contain snippets of my life and my strongest emotions. Here I have opened my soul up to be read.