Oh how humans are decieving.
We always hide,
Behind a mask.
We hide our pain,
Our sorrow,
Our sadness,
In other words; our weakness.
We hide them and they become unseen.
While doing it, we look heartless
Cruel and cold.
Why should we do all of this?
Why should we make ourselves unhappy.
But after all,
Who likes a broken vase?
YOU ARE READING
Cold Hands, Cold Heart
PuisiSome of us can't speak. But some of us can write. P.s. previously known as poems by the stars Highest Rank: #534 in poetry
