She plays her skin like a violin,
Armed with a shiny metal bow.
She moves back and forth, tone deaf as death,
This music has no beauty to show.
Passion is bled with no words said,
For this song is just instrumental.
And when the girl falls down without a sound,
She can't make it to the recital.
~AFR~
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poems
Poetrya variety of losses, regrets, and depression wrapped into a mess of a poem book started: 04.29.15 completed: 06.24.19 a book that has existed almost as long as I have on here. thank you for giving my story a chance (my apologies if some are really c...
