Everybody goes to her for dish,
but within, is vacant for a wish.
She always has a story to tell,
excluding facts of her own private hell.
She throws her hat up;
she is complete.
As it tumbles down,
she knows defeat.
Hiding marks on her face,
knowing pain cannot erase.
She sits awake in bed,
running through her mind, is what's been said.
It's been a while
since she felt allowed to smile.
Forget her.
She knows what she has done;
traded her life, for four years of fun.
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1 comment:
This is such a well written poem. I usually hate poetry, because most of them are filled with words that people can not relate to, or don't really give a crap about.
But this I love! I can understand it, I can read it with out falling asleep, and best of all it serves some descriptive purpose. I also loved how it actually rhymed; I love that.
You got some real talent, and I cans see that with this poem and all your other posts, and other things you have written. I can truly see this as your future, use your talent wisely. You know what they say, "If you find a job that you love, then you will never work a day in your life."
Remember that.
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