Sitting so finely, without any trace of emotion on her face.
She looks like a princess with a cold heart.
She listens to depressing songs.
No one understands why she’s like that.
She doesn’t belong.
She just doesn’t get along.
No one talking to her,
No one taking a chance.
Everyone just feels they wouldn’t get along with each other.
No one sparing her a single glance.
I push my feet towards the girl.
I thought every was alright.
So I let all my fears unfurl.
But then, when I approached, I saw a horrible sight.
The girl was sobbing so hardly.
She wasn’t okay.
I realized my cowardice and looked down guiltily.
She was beautiful.
Yes, but she was beautifully emotionally scarred.
YOU ARE READING
Spilled Ink Poetry
Şiir"The poem is a little myth of man's capacity to make life meaningful." - Robert Penn Warren
