No, I'm not well
My life is a living hell
This fragile body is my cell
With a throat that feels like it's going to swell
And a soul that I wish I could sell
I've fallen down a deep, deep well
I tried to climb out but I fell
Back to the bottom where there's sticky gel
I expressed my frustration with a yell
But I've been put under a silence spell
All of this reminds me of a certain smell
That was hidden somewhere in a shell
Near that one big golden bell
With a secret I can never tell
YOU ARE READING
A Bouquet Of Wilted Flowers
PoesíaWilted flowers may be used to express such sad sentiments as heartbreak, though sometimes with a sense of irony.
