the broken girl was a puddle of depression,
everyone stepped on her or tried to avoid her.
she tried to clean it up,
but it just rained.
it rained for days.
it seems as so she was drenched it the wet rain of depression.
no one handed her yellow rain-boots or a raincoat
or a umbrella.
she just stood in her soaked blue clothes.
she was not dressed for the weather,
she wore shortties and a tank because she thought she would
be playing in the sunshine with the other boys and girls.
but she just watched, far way from them
in her puddle of depression.
i'm thinking of starting a poetry series called "tales of the broken girl" what do you guys think?
i would love to hear feedback on this poem, i'm real proud of ir.