The teardrops run down,
And fall off her nose.
She cries in dark corners,
were nobody goes.
You can follow the tracks,
From her eyes to her chin,
Years upon years,
Of letting them win.
Her eyes tell a story,
Of anger and pain.
You think that she's happy,
Though look again.
The scars of her past,
Hidden under her clothes,
Are a roadmap to places,
That nobody knows.
Her smile is painted,
She's a master of disguise.
You can see it all,
With one look in her eyes.
YOU ARE READING
My poems
شِعرI've been working on this for awhile Most impressive Ranking #482 in poem out of 6.1k stories
