You see the homeless man,
But not the army doctor,
Eyes filled with trauma.
You see the overweight women,
Not the days before her mother's funeral,
Trying to cope.
You see the mute woman,
Her eyes speak
What she once spoke.
You see the man with scars,
He was innocent,
Behind bars.
You see,
But you don't
And you slowly began
To lose hope
YOU ARE READING
Naive
PoetryWORDS WERE THE LIFEBLOOD OF POETRY, AND I REMAINED SILENT. A collection of poetry. For the people who don't feel at home in their own skin, for the poets, for the people who are depressed, for the people who aren't depressed, for the people with wo...
