Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 7
How time does fly
In its illusion
Sadly inflicted
And sometimes
Confusing

How trying at times
To acquire satisfaction
Painless solitude
Or worthwhile
Dedication

How forsaken the lonely
The broken of heart
That depressed individual
On who sorrow
Has left its mark
Written by
Trinidad Apodaca
51
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems