From the broken home she still lives.
She goes out as if her home is perfect.
She goes out with her wide smile, then she pretends to be fine.
She goes home tired, straight to her bedroom then she cries

"What an unfair world I live in?" She whispered inside the dark and cold room she's in.




--jeannery a.
♡

In the time before,
I was empty, miserable inside,
A wretch whose every smile was war,
Whimpering for a curtained place to hide.

The day, desolate;
Night, in its black stillness much the same.
Pitched pain, itching for an exit,
Legs set to cease the heaving hate and blame.

Now, I feel my heart
Beating love-blest power through my chest.
Before unfelt, its bucking start
Divests the owner, all along mere guest.

Symphony, rise, crest,
Condescend to my low-sighted view.
I sleep to wake, straight-up obsessed,
Eight letters and a period for you.

Careful now, don’t jest,
Lest my past peers profitable heist,
Dethroned selves sing out through the mesh,
Anguished, set to vanquish their sole poltergeist.

So, patch; never cease
Paragon of love’s delightful dawn,
Persisting for the barest piece
Of you, the whole of why I am not gone.