My tired eyes cry
My weary body lies
And why do my tears
Think they cannot dry?
Shaky hands and nervous throat
Exhausted heart, this stimulated soul
They ridiculously wait, day after day,
For a break from sorrow, a thing called hope.
How is it that I can live, but it is the hardest thing I ever did?
© Melissa Carlson 2016
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
My tired eyes cry
My weary body lies
And why do my tears
Think they cannot dry?
Shaky hands and nervous throat
Exhausted heart, this stimulated soul
They ridiculously wait, day after day,
For a break from sorrow, a thing called hope.
How is it that I can live, but it is the hardest thing I ever did?
© Melissa Carlson 2016
