empty words on pretty paper
that disappear just like a vapor

a cry for help disguised as poetry
she continues on writing hopefully

what's the point of trying to rhyme?
this whole **** poem is a crime

maybe she should stick to art
perhaps that will mend her bleeding heart

to carry on she'd be a fool
her own harsh words can be so cruel

she is, herself, her own worst enemy
she'll take the blame and every penalty

for after all who is to blame?
she regards herself with utter shame

a broken girl with shattered hope
just searching for a way to cope

so write she must, and write she will
till that blessed day her heart lies, still

m.g.