Heavy were her eyes,
but not with sleep.
The red blotches
and tear stains
clearly contrasted
with rest of her pale face.
A blanket of quiet
came over her,
thoughts blank
and heart slowing.
Perhaps sleep would
bring back the lightness
in her soul,
dry her remaining tears,
and even let her laugh,
give her some control
in this tough life
she calls home.
YOU ARE READING
My Voice
PoesíaPoems meant to express things I can't always bring myself to say, emotions that run so deep in my veins, and thoughts that hang over my head. I hope you can enjoy this, or find something that makes you feel less alone at the very least. Many of thes...
