Beauty grows and not on a face,
Nor thy garden which I look,
But in a dark secret place,
A place in no angelic book.
An area where your free from label,
That place be where thy soul hides,
A place that's cradeled
But in a cage it resides.
pounding on the walls when scared,
Feeling cold and alone.
Often love it declared,
Trying to break out of the bones.
Beauty grows not on thy face
But in thou blood drenched case.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry
PoetryI don't expect anyone to understand any of it but this is a way of relieving stress so bare with me.
