Complimented by many,
Loved by none.
At any sign of love,
She tends to run.
She enjoys her freedom,
Yet sometimes it gets sad.
She gets a little lonely,
She gets a little mad.
No one shall love her,
For her past she must atone.
With only mere voices as company,
The lonely girl is alone.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the Pained
PoetryThis is just poetry that I've randomly written, and feel like publishing them will help or inspire others. They're all pretty short. Please, no hatful remarks.
