Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

wishing wells

wishing wells are wet on their insides
coins crack their bodies against rocks
slipping into the water to hide the
bottled up tears and wistful stares, absent
heartbeats, and broken cares
of strangers from the outside, tossing things in
stones and water, broken, haunted by
thoughts, greed, and helplessness from
people trying to reach the end or beginning
of things, only to bring themselves to the edge
of the cold, holding nothing in their hands
but wishing for everything to stand again
without sinking low, into the bottom of
wishing wells, where all the beautiful yet
ugly things go

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: thorny

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