#barbwire
Nervous.... When I enter a room... Do I look okay?
I fidget with my bracelets, making sure my battles are hidden...
What will they think.... When they find out...
I'm not okay... I'm a loose ***** A walking wreck...
Held together by barb wire, the rough edges pierce my skin...
Will you hear my pleas? Will anyone answer me?
Or just pass by like a blurred figment of imagination?
Believing the smile on my face, the joyful laugh I make,
misguiding you? That I'm always this pleasant and easygoing?
But I'm not, never was, but I'm trying to hide and show you
all at once... Can you see me?
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
sturdy stem of throns
a fragile soul grow
strung like barbwire
withering very slow
soft to the touch
older day by day
no longer admired
perfume fading away
folding over in sorrow
petals they slowly fade
from the dying rose
losing beauty it has made
last petal crumbles
dusting Earth's floor
for the dying rose
happiness is no more
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC