Beneath the veil of moonlight's soft embrace, A woman weeps, her tears a silent trace. In shadows cast by solitude's cruel art, Her heartache whispers, tearing her apart.
Each teardrop falls, a tale untold, In the quiet hours, her sorrow unfolds. In solitude, she finds her abode, A symphony of sorrow, an untold ode.
Haunted by echoes of joy once known, A garden of wilted flowers overgrown. Each petal, a memory, now stained, In the canvas of her life, pain is ingrained.
Her anguish echoes in the hush of stars, Lost in the vastness of emotional scars. The world sleeps, unaware of her pain, As she weaves a poem in tears' gentle rain.
A mirror reflects a gaze forlorn, Eyes that once sparkled, now worn. Silent screams echo in her chest, A symphony of sadness, unexpressed.
Yet in the dusk, a glimmer may appear, A chance for healing, drawing near. For even in darkness, seeds of hope sow, And within despair, strength may grow.
—Jean R.
December 17, 2023
PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARIZE!!!
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