Navy blue tip of the brushstroke cleansed my eyelids of a black miscelleny
Of eyeliner, mascara and heavy black pain hidden behind.
Whatever in the world it takes to be a woman
Standing upon a pair of daggers dipping in your feet, your pretty feet
And producing a rose red, sun bright smile to all who wish for your downfall.
I realised it was night, long hours of pretence for sleep.
****** burden Recalling my woes, buried in my head, in my throat, to life. Now sore and deep!
There is more than sufficient oxygen in the air, yet I can't breathe.
I'm tracking every star that might fortell a happy fate.
Whereas it fades and leaves me to my own certain doom.
Whatever in the world it takes to be a woman.
To wipe away your own tears at night.
And fall back to sleep.
Just feeling utterly down these days. But here is a poem
