Whose heart is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown. I cry hello.
Watching close, I see her heart shake,
As she sobs until the tears make.
The only other sounds that break,
Are distant waves and birds awake.
The heart is fragile, beating and deep,
But she has promises to keep.
Until then she shall not sleep.
She lies in bed with ducts that weep.
She rises from her bitter bed,
With thoughts of sorrow in her head,
She idolises being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread
YOU ARE READING
Dark. Tragic. Beautiful.
PoesiaWithin these pages you will find a collection of poetic stories and thoughts. These writings have all been conjured from the mind of a sensitive girl, who was blessed with the gift of expression and storytelling. You will find tragic tales, sorrowfu...
