She knows not
Of how sheer she lays in the corner of her bed ,phone one hand,void the other
Of how much from her world, in her eyes,you can gather
Of the pain her sore feet reveal,running from yet another
Of how bluntly her heart drips ,may these phrases bolt her rather
She knows not
Of light.gloomy and dusky is the shine her tears reflect
Of her influence,vigor,strength,flair and respect
That to another living soul, her fritter is their glitter
That to be a victor you cant be a quitter nor bitter
She knows not.
That her suitor holds on to her hand at the end of the story
That her journey already started in the midst of her worry
That her fright and dismay will soon be her glory
That her misfits are the brisks to the brush of her poetry.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 9:29 AM UTC
She knows not
Of how sheer she lays in the corner of her bed ,phone one hand,void the other
Of how much from her world, in her eyes,you can gather
Of the pain her sore feet reveal,running from yet another
Of how bluntly her heart drips ,may these phrases bolt her rather
She knows not
Of light.gloomy and dusky is the shine her tears reflect
Of her influence,vigor,strength,flair and respect
That to another living soul, her fritter is their glitter
That to be a victor you cant be a quitter nor bitter
She knows not.
That her suitor holds on to her hand at the end of the story
That her journey already started in the midst of her worry
That her fright and dismay will soon be her glory
That her misfits are the brisks to the brush of her poetry.