Touching my stomach with trembling butterfly fingers
Knowing I’d never feel you growing in me
Earthquake tremors ripped my tortured heart to pieces
My eyes swam in my blue-stormy tears
Tag: Rhyme
Terminators, Poetry by David E. Gates
The ground is bloody, with the scars of war.
God knows what we’re fighting for.
I can’t breathe, Air’s so thin,
Nothing to stop them closing in.
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