Bitter cups of coffee
Dark colored clouds
All city lights were closed
Except for one little hole
Hand written letters were trashed
Old poems were lost
Her pretty words were scattered
Through the entire room she has
She had her pen at hand
A notebook always seen at stand
Her smile shows happiness like the sun
But her eyes show sadness like the moon's dark lands
If you wish to understand her
You must pick the papers and read
For every word and sentence
Was a piece of soul to keep
Go ask her all your questions
But she won't answer that
For she was once an honest girl
That was broken like a piece of glass
I know you want to know more
About this little girl I have
But as the time goes by
The more the papers you need to have
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Author's Note:
Dedicated to everyone. Nothing. I'm just happy. Ok.... bye!!
Next!!
YOU ARE READING
Crayons Of The Cruel World
PoetryTo the dude out there, still trying to live in the cruel world we call home, Do something about it!! Color it up!! Use some non-existing words and imaginary adventures, Whether it is good or bad, dark or light, something that can pop out of thin pap...
