Pain.
It is of aching knees and a salty face,
Burning eyes, tears on your cheeks,
And that terrible silence.
Tension is in the air.
You can feel it.
It’s anguished electricity.
You hide your face behind the book
And refuse to look at her.
There is anger in that tired, hurting heart of yours.
Everything you ever knew streamed into the darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
