Too scared to cry,
She holds herself every day,
a simple piece of glass,
That has fractured and danced away.
Living for nothing,
But knowing nothing better,
What can I possibly say to heal your wounds?
A look from your troubled eyes,
can burn my soul entire.
Twisted logic, cruel lottery,
my little victim of a liar.
Bless your innocence and grace,
Your trusting nature and fair face,
Your wanting experience and hurtful sweetness,
But most of all may god bless your weakness.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
Too scared to cry,
She holds herself every day,
a simple piece of glass,
That has fractured and danced away.
Living for nothing,
But knowing nothing better,
What can I possibly say to heal your wounds?
A look from your troubled eyes,
can burn my soul entire.
Twisted logic, cruel lottery,
my little victim of a liar.
Bless your innocence and grace,
Your trusting nature and fair face,
Your wanting experience and hurtful sweetness,
But most of all may god bless your weakness.
Request permission to use this poem