here she lies, not dead, but not alive
cried for hours, begged for life
her thought, her heart, worn out
she trembles, numb and cold
gets out on her little balcony, looking at the moon tonight
mid April, still cold outside
her lungs are crying, she doesn't care
she doesn't have a heart
YOU ARE READING
Between the Lines
Poesíawhen your screwed up mind plays with words you just write it down
