HangnailsA Poem by Lydia
I poke and prod
until the skin becomes loose until there is enough to grab by my teeth and I pull I tear the piece as far as it will go down my thumb imagining if I could tear it all the way across my arm until the scars I feel are shown to anyone who looks at me Maybe they will have pity but more likely they will look away in disgust © 2019 LydiaReviews
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1 Review Added on November 15, 2019 Last Updated on November 15, 2019 AuthorLydiaSeattle, WAAboutI'm Lydia. I write free verse. Nature is freedom. My Bird, I am forever changed. Rest in Peace, my beautiful friend. Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginativ.. more..Writing
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