by Elifnaz Kabalci

My head is a haunted place
Filled with moans of filthy ghosts
And sorrow of past memories
It’s a dangerous place for a little girl to wander
The storm of the constant worries thunder
It’s not a place for the weak
Nor is it a place with peace
By the roar of the waves of shadow
She longs to get washed further and further away

Elli read this poem at our sixth meeting on the 13th of June 2017. Definitely check out her writing and travel writing blog, where she writes about all the snazzy alternative cafés she encounters on her travels.

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