A trail of tears wherever she goes,
Permanent black smudges below her eyes,
She grudgingly walks around all day
plotting her own demise.
Constantly being pulled back and forth
between depression and joy,
Searching for words and whispers
that can help expose the voids.
With scratches and symbols on her skin,
Ragged and red,
These etchings of sin go unnoticed.
No one cared that she bled.
YOU ARE READING
Hypnotic
PoetryThere was something about her that Captivated him. Something that made him stay. Maybe it was the dip of her hips, Or the curl of her toes. The secrets in her smile, That he loved, I suppose. He was drowning in her waters Yet still parched With ecs...
