Isolation

The wheel spins

Round and round

Like the distort pain

In my stomach.

I ride the bus every day

Only to arrive at the most unloved place.

School.

I can’t speak my native tongue.

I can’t speak the language we learn.

I can’t speak to anyone.

It’s a trap to me.

A death trap waiting to succumb you to heaven.

Published by Issy Juanita

A writer with many stories, poems and ideas to tell...

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