She learned a very long time ago
To keep things buried deep inside
Things you just don't talk about
The little secrets that we hide
She learned to be silent
How to bear her pain alone
She learned to rely on no one
That she was pretty much on her own
She learned to turn her emotions off
When it got too painful to feel
She learned to put on a happy face
And pretend that she was real
She learned to become invisible
That her feelings didn't matter
She learned to die a little more
Untill her life began to shatter
But then she learned to tell her story
Her written words, became her voice
She learned to take her power back
That she wasn't left without a choice
-Midnight poet
YOU ARE READING
HER
PoetryShe is art in a beautiful museum we recognise to be this world. Although she was beautiful, sophisticated and captivating, not every one cared to appreciate that. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂
