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venniekocsisPoems
Sometimes people look Old before their time The lines on their faces Come early like The sections of pain Just couldn't sit Inside anymore so They seeped out Onto the bodies Creating strained Pockets of water The sadness that Never got cried out. I watch faces age quickly There are young women Who look like grandmothers The weight of their anger Forcing their skin Towards gravity Their lips smile but Their eyes hold no shine They are empty, Morose hollows Staring from pictures. I wonder who They think they're fooling Or if maybe I'm the few who sees I understand the shine love can be I wish for magic wands Sometimes people become Old before their time Trudging invisible walkers Made of situations With heavy legs Constructed from blame And tearless fingers made From strings of bitterness. How long can a Spirit carry such weight Before it bends beneath The dark matter Humans pile On top of themselves Sometimes people age Before they've Lived half their life Walking skeletons Constantly searching For the graveyard Inside their yearning There's a fountain Called youthfulness The ones ancients Used to sing of This liquid called Love They could drink Become infants Until the lines became Infinite But sometimes People choose to Age before their time v.k poetry venniekocsis.com copyright @ dbv publishing
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Sometimes People Look Old Before Their time
Sometimes people look Old before their time The lines on their faces Come early like The sections of pain Just couldn't sit Inside anymore so They seeped out Onto the bodies Creating strained Pockets of water The sadness that Never got cried out. I watch faces age quickly There are young women Who look like grandmothers The weight of their anger Forcing their skin Towards gravity Their lips smile but Their eyes hold no shine They are empty, Morose hollows Staring from pictures. I wonder who They think they're fooling Or if maybe I'm the few who sees I understand the shine love can be I wish for magic wands Sometimes people become Old before their time Trudging invisible walkers Made of situations With heavy legs Constructed from blame And tearless fingers made From strings of bitterness. How long can a Spirit carry such weight Before it bends beneath The dark matter Humans pile On top of themselves Sometimes people age Before they've Lived half their life Walking skeletons Constantly searching For the graveyard Inside their yearning There's a fountain Called youthfulness The ones ancients Used to sing of This liquid called Love They could drink Become infants Until the lines became Infinite But sometimes People choose to Age before their time v.k poetry venniekocsis.com copyright @ dbv publishing
venniekocsis
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venniekocsis
49/F
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
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