I am but a very sickly child,
And by the end of each day, I am drained.
With fall comes fevers, but they are mild,
Although my bones are sick from when it rained.
Usually, I am under the weather.
My bones and my mind are all very sick.
Often, I can be found in a sweater.
My happy emotions need a good kick.
It is with regret that I have to say,
I am long gone, it is true that I'm lost.
Yes, I am sad; happiness does not pay.
Yet, I try to be joyful, despite costs.
My world has always been so very dark,
And, no, it has not left me without marks.
YOU ARE READING
For Those in Pain
PoetryEverybody hurts at one time or another. Life is filled with pain and sorrow. It is the darkness that clouds our minds, and attacks our hearts. Sometimes, the pain can not be adequately expressed in words. But we try to find the words to explain ours...
