I am a woman of strength
it seems to most.
But have you seen
the darkness of sequence
in my eyes
as the sinful tears
stream down my face?
Or my wizened expression
when my face cripples
when I remember the past?
Shall I recover
from what
was once hell?
Or will I remain
living in my own
lair of doom?
My definition of hell...
When she gives me a look of dispair,
I shamefully glance at the tip of my toes;
ready to hop in my grave.
I was a mistake
as I think of it.
Or at least the outcome of one.
YOU ARE READING
Mellifluous Murmurs
Poesía❁ Freedom is allowing the crisp air to guide you through this forest we can call society. ❁
