The Rocking Chair


A little girl scared

And you fail to protect from the monster in the Rocking Chair

Stone cold, icy glare

Her madness drank upon sadness

Pathetic and waste of space

She wait

She rocked while the white dog slept.

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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