down
she drowned.
into the bottomless pit
of personal expectations.
like
the thoughts that
rained upon her
mind,
expectations
evolved into false
self-medications,
leaving her in
surreal doubts
that her mind had
no ideal conjuring
about.
a mindless ordeal
left her gasping for air,
leaving many
into accidental affairs.
yet she was an ocean,
strong,
surreal,
and flowing.
the raging storm
in her eyes
never flared,
for she was a
wilting rose,
thorns
still able to poke.
and if you were to
love her,
you are to
know her.
expectations,
oceans,
thorns,
and all
YOU ARE READING
To The World
Poetry"the inferno of words would be my demise if i did not express them." #501 in poetry #640 in poetry #689 in poetry #692 in poetry
