There are things she dares not to tell, things she'd rather keep to himself
As it cries, as it pleads to be declared
To its pleas of mercy, she remains deaf
The vow she's whispered to the air she's upheld
No one must know her weaknesses
She has learned, that this is used against her
As she is stabbed by the knife of betrayal, she is left in grievances
She is then rendered a weeper
So she's kept all beautiful things inside this bottle,
Those of which are her feelings, each blissful and crushing one
It is unknown when she decides to open the bottle locked up tight
By then, she will be bare, undone
YOU ARE READING
Bottled
Poetry"I've kept all beautiful things inside this bottle, those of which are my feelings-each blissful and crushing one." A series of words to express the inexpressible.
