Trickles of water fall down my face.
Will this soul ever find it's right place?
Wanting to fly and find
my true calling,
but when I try floating,
I am just simply falling.
I sink deeper into the sand,
into myself,
too anxious and self conscious
to ask for anyone's help.
My paper thin heart is torn
and crumpled,
but when asked about it,
all this aching soul can do is mumble.
My hands fresh and young
tremble like an lead in the wind.
All I can wonder is
what have I become?
Everyday a new piece
gets ripped away.
Left aching and tired,
I yearn for long forgotten peace.
I am broken and bruised.
I know not what to do.
there is no one to turn to.
Never to be understood,
everyone thinks that I feel good.
That I am glad and nothing could
bother me, not even rain,
but all I ever feel now
is this stupid thing called pain.
YOU ARE READING
Here's to...
PoetryHere's to the readers, To the dreamers, The child within To the heartbreakers And the risktakers To those that try something new Here's to the lonely The forgotten, The one who doesn't know what to do with themselves To the one searching for somethi...
