Fleeting interpretations of these fickle minds
vile and alluring are its workings
but so distant from where the abode of truth lies
a girl for some and another,
who fabricates sweet lies,
smiling through gritted teeth, cold eyes,
fists held hostage, effortless arrogance leaking through her spirit,
her bone marrow crystalized;
A girl for some and others,
who only mumbles and even mute are her cries,
shy to death and hidden behind white blinds
seldom she burns like an eclipse light,
an uninteresting mystery, is all I am left in their eyes.
Maybe there lives a wanderer of night
who would see through my veil.
-She sighed dejectedly with her head on his shoulder.
YOU ARE READING
THE GIRL WHO SPOKE POETRY
PoetryThe thing about pain is, it makes you question.. what makes you human? ____________ **Not cliche, I repeat, Not cliche, WARNING, not cliche**
