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by tck
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #1400468
I know her. I am her.
Her eyes are the windows,
The way into her soul.
Her heart is slightly tattered,
Dissapointment dug a hole.
Her mind is something tortuous,
Filled with pleading cries.
Her lips are tight and pale,
Tired from forming twisted lies.
She wears a pretty mask,
Always plays pretend.
Confused by her own self,
She slowly learns to mend.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1400468-A-Girl