by Shree
To burn the witch is to admit magic exists.
My mother lights the fire to my funeral pyre.
Tag: pain
A woman is a half formed thing
by Shree
A woman is a half-formed thing.
She is moulded, contorted and shaped.
Poem: Three years down, forever left to go.
By Nanette Ashby
This poem marks the three year anniversary of her diagnosis with Fibromyalgia, a chronic pain condition.
Raffia 