It was a dark desolate morning,
They often are.
I awoke once more in mourning,
With a sorrow laden heart.
This has become a norm,
Wallowing in incessant pain
For now my heart is without form
And my efforts acquire no gain.
I get out of bed begrudgingly,
Reluctant to face the day
I get dressed up and wearily,
I set out on my way.
Familiar faces surround me
And dead eyes hold my gaze
As though they are unhappy,
And gladly number my days.
I walk on seemingly unbothered,
Trying to save face
But deep down my heart shatters,
At my exile and disgrace.
As I perform mundane tasks
And my monotonous days go by
Of my welfare no one asks
And I wish simply to die
Soon I'm home again; alone
Free to revel in sadness
For all my life I've never known
Genuine love and kindness.
YOU ARE READING
Wallflower By TheStormFlower
PoetryAimeé had only ever known solitude. Even when she wasn't in isolation. Wilting rose, wilting rose Beauty that does not show For now you're frail and weak and old And your true value, no one knows. Esmeralda had never known conflict. She had been cus...
