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She cries herself to sleep
And wakes up with swollen eyes
She puts on some makeup
And fools the world with her smile

No one asks about her
They assume she’s fine
No one even cares enough
To give her a hug

So before you even judge
Give yourself a nudge
And think straight
You could make a mistake
He spent his life  in factorys
Worked his fingers to the bone
Fifty years have come and gone
Now retired he stays at home.
A family he provided for
Now the children they have grown
They have all moved on and fled the nest
They've got to make it on there own.
He looks around at all four walls
And he wonders just were he is going
So he thinks about this thing called life
And writes about it in a poem.
He may like writing poems about life
But he drives his wife crazy being under
Her feet and not washing his cups after use.
Dilsha Kawindi Oct 2018
Even when
She broke her bones
Never once
Did she yell in pain

Don’t cry
She’d say
Everyone goes
In the end

Now, watching her as she laid
Still, calm
Serene
But free of pain
Dilsha Kawindi Nov 2017
Smooth, silky hair tied in a high ponytail
Clear lip gloss
Fingernails painted pale pink
The perfect girl next door
Pastel cardigans and sweaters were her thing

Waking up with red, swollen, puffy eyes
Staring at her reflection in the mirror for hours
And reappearing fresh cuts on her wrist
Yet no one knew the blackness growing darker in her

What's done is done
No way to go back in time
A little attention would've been sufficient to stop it
But to be fair
She got it in the end
As her body laid on the ground
With blood gushing out of her hand

— The End —