Dernière sortie
Poems of a Forgotten Girl
Poems of a Forgotten GirlBy Lacey Shaikh Milt She was never just a girl. She was the aftermath no one wanted to name. This is not a gentle book. These poems bleed. Poems of a Forgotten Girl is a raw and honest look at trauma, self-harm, desire, and survival. L. S. M. writes what others bury-memories too painful to name, feelings too sharp to hold. Each poem is intimate, graphic, and emotionally charged.
Some whisper. Some scream. All of them cut deep. This book is for anyone who's lived through silence and wants to speak. For those who know that love can feel like a razor, and pain can feel like home. Some cuts are quiet. Some are love. Some scars stay warm, like the hands that made them. And sometimes, the deepest love is the one that hurts the most.
Some whisper. Some scream. All of them cut deep. This book is for anyone who's lived through silence and wants to speak. For those who know that love can feel like a razor, and pain can feel like home. Some cuts are quiet. Some are love. Some scars stay warm, like the hands that made them. And sometimes, the deepest love is the one that hurts the most.
Poems of a Forgotten GirlBy Lacey Shaikh Milt She was never just a girl. She was the aftermath no one wanted to name. This is not a gentle book. These poems bleed. Poems of a Forgotten Girl is a raw and honest look at trauma, self-harm, desire, and survival. L. S. M. writes what others bury-memories too painful to name, feelings too sharp to hold. Each poem is intimate, graphic, and emotionally charged.
Some whisper. Some scream. All of them cut deep. This book is for anyone who's lived through silence and wants to speak. For those who know that love can feel like a razor, and pain can feel like home. Some cuts are quiet. Some are love. Some scars stay warm, like the hands that made them. And sometimes, the deepest love is the one that hurts the most.
Some whisper. Some scream. All of them cut deep. This book is for anyone who's lived through silence and wants to speak. For those who know that love can feel like a razor, and pain can feel like home. Some cuts are quiet. Some are love. Some scars stay warm, like the hands that made them. And sometimes, the deepest love is the one that hurts the most.
