I love that number yet I have corrupted it
How you may ask well that's for you to find out
It's not my fault or I hope it isn't
What I have done was something you shall not know about
Sad are those eyes weak is that body tired is that mind and broken is that view
View of what well it's of the world
Twisted words are spoken
Heated moments happen
So bear with me when this happens can you
Cause they said once you have done it the first time there is no turning back
Difficult situation arises but holding back can be too much at times
Suffered at the sharp edge
Which ended up there eight times
Eight times she done it
Just watch it slip through those openings
And seep upon the surface
"Pretty colour" she said
But she just wanted a clean start of things
Why is she even still going on
No one knows not even herself
Wish she could give it all up now
But she just can't
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts of the Hopeful & Broken Ones
PoetryThoughts of the hopeful and broken ones can be deadly Knowing not what we are thinking Like quick sand the pain and the ache have us sinking Deep down in a dark part of our mind But a smile like ours makes them have nothing to find
