Poem III — The Panic Room
<p>My chin<br />
falls<br />
heavy on<br />
roughed-up<br />
knees,<br />
rocking<br />
fast<br />
‘til<br />
my<br />
heels<br />
bleed;<br />
the carpet<br />
gives in,<br />
and pockets<br />
weave,<br />
wrapping<br />
tightly<br />
the curves<br />
of my<br />
feet;</p>
<p><a href="https://medium.com/write-under-the-moon/poem-iii-the-panic-room-47d4c7c6133e"><strong>Visit Now</strong></a></p>