So, I'm not even sure that this is long enough to be considered an article, but here goes.
I was going through one of my old notebooks and I found a poem that I wrote about Ziva around the time she was in Somalia. But I suppose it could be viewed as a during o post-traumatic poem. I thought I'd see what te girls think :) It's short and dark, and it's called Fallen.
Her wings are black, her cuore is broken,
Whispered thoughts are never spoken,
She dies inside, slowly here,
Every moment wrought with fear.
Forgotten dreams and harsh regrets,
Memories she tries so hard to forget,
And now each single waking hour,
She wilts inside... a dying flower.
I was going through one of my old notebooks and I found a poem that I wrote about Ziva around the time she was in Somalia. But I suppose it could be viewed as a during o post-traumatic poem. I thought I'd see what te girls think :) It's short and dark, and it's called Fallen.
Her wings are black, her cuore is broken,
Whispered thoughts are never spoken,
She dies inside, slowly here,
Every moment wrought with fear.
Forgotten dreams and harsh regrets,
Memories she tries so hard to forget,
And now each single waking hour,
She wilts inside... a dying flower.
