A messed up brain, a messed up life,
Beautiful things turning to unused swings;
Time's slipping, no power can stop,
She's now a mystery forever left unresolved.
What is she now and what she used to be,
All it took was just a wrong turn
That took her nowhere and left her wondering;
Was it just another drama or her karma,
She's tired of this shit and asks herself on repeat-
Who is she ?
Writing pen or dried ink.
Who is she ?
Broken lead or sharpened pencil.
Who is she ?
Bright sun or pouring rain.
Who is she ?
New dress or coffee stain.
Who is she ?
Healing wound or nasty scar.
Who is she ?
Living moment or breathless hour.
Who is she ?
Filling cup or drying lake.
Who is she ?
Right turn or wrong way.
YOU ARE READING
HER IDENTITY
PoesíaWho is she? Right turn or wrong way thoughts of her that she kept it all in, growing of her unnoticed pain as it it brought her more misery, just a girl growing and her thoughts in her head blowing, all at once.
