Home wasn't perfect,
Neither was life good.
Pearls in her hand,
There she stood.
Friends were never family
And family was too fake.
With years and years in hand,
A beautiful memory, she couldn't make
She never felt love
But hate with honour.
Still, she had a heart
With a soft corner.
She had hope,
More than one ever heard.
Never to her
Was it just another word.
She sang
But mostly in sorrow
Yet craving
For a better tomorrow.
They've seen her
But not really;
They know her
But not that truly.
She screamed
But only in her heart.
She so wished
To mend every part.
She cried
Like any other girl would,
She lied
Like nobody ever could.
She was strong enough
To hide them in her eyes
But not that strong
To fake a smile.
She would sob
And those tears would fall,
One by one
Like the tears of all.
Somehow,
Her's were special
To someone
They were crucial.
She had a heart
And she felt hurt.
Maybe one day,
They'll know her worth.
She was me,
She is still me.
YOU ARE READING
Tangled Tales
Poetry'Tangled Tales' holds a set of poems that relate to many lives and hopefully these may provide you comfort and let you know that you're not alone...
