her hands
try to find a way through
the cold strand of a smile
on the train
struggling
in the quiet of drowsiness
as her feet grope the floor
to sleep
she never makes it through.
she is
only a distant stranger
i wouldn't dare to talk to
even in a crowd
her eyes
meddle thoughts in my head
smudging facts into stories
made-up.
people tell me i am her.
Comments
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thats what they waaaaant you to think!
dont believe them, they're going bonkers hon. you're you, the original crazy electrocuted haird, pumpkin smiled girl. you're not that sad depressing person you've described. i mean sure, there are some tragic incidents in life that have swept past your life, but hey, you've learnt to move on!
and i'm so proud of you. keep penning hon. and remember... thats what they waaaaaant you to think!
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well
The mirror does look back and pehaps you mirror a certain sadneess that many can relate to. The mind, what a trip it can be. But the poet owns their own words and thoughts. Write on young poet.
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oh wow,
this was amazing.
I've missed your writing beautiful girl!
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