Her smile, it was the epitome of fake,
And she struggled, with every breath intake,
Her eyes, were lost but wide
And her hands, shook at her side
She shrunk a little, with every step she took,
As if she was afraid, to even take a look.
But her heart, it was golden pure,
She was a hero, this I was sure.
YOU ARE READING
sober thoughts
Poetryvolume i "she wrote it down, she kept record of them all. words expressing past emotions, details of what transpired with who, what and where. she might call it poetry or perhaps a diary but all I saw was a paper filled with words written in denial...
