there she sat, drowning in inky tears;
masked faces, eyes that blatantly pierce;
all her pride faded to nothing;
no one came to ease her suffering.
why, oh why did you not help?
she's drowning! breathing no air;
hypocrites dancing in lace;
all her pride thrown in haste.
they frolicked on the laces with her blood stains;
her lacerated flesh their sadistic gain;
give her pity, give her relief;
they'd help her, her previous belief.
alas, none have given - none have come;
alone she was, alone undone;
she sat there, drowning in self-pity;
a hidden war unsolved by any treaty.
— Anastacia
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ANASTACIA
PoetryA compilation of poems about love, reality and distorted fantasy. Thoughts to words - Touch to feelings - Sight to memories - All I can offer to you in writing. - Anastacia Cover belongs to its rightful owners.
