And so I sit by myself,
and watch the nightly sky.
For there is none to tug me off my shelf,
or dry my tears when I start to cry.
And as the wind crusades my health,
water drops move to stain the earth dry.
While my thoughts I cannot counter,
and my emotions all but flounder.
For it is not easy to be depressed,
it is not easy to be oppressed.
And a girl can only handle so much tears,
before she collapses into her fears.
And depressed, I do not want to be,
but oppressed, is all society gives to me.
So I walk through the stumbling path of fire,
claiming, against me, the society does conspire.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
