It hurts, but I can’t bleed
My own feelings, that I hold down deep.
Love I hold, keeps me a prisoner
Those with boldness, destructors
Hurts like a boil, mine
Festers up each time
No escape, no reprieve
Why am I the only one who can see?
Perhaps my curse, their will is my stone
Even here in my own home.
MwsR
She paid for their selfish ways
Made garments to wear from all their disarray
She never asked for any thing from back then
Maybe just an answer, or maybe just kin
She carried their troubles and ways on her shoulder
Unknowing that she also dragged behind her, a boulder
Helpless she was against all their formal displays
Unwillingly having to participate along the way.
Her crime was that she loved too willingly
Hoped beyond the greatest hostility
She wanted roses instead she became their thorn
Her heart was betrayed, tattered, and torn.
No one could handle her problems nor did they care
This was her life and her shame that she had to bear.
Because of their hearts, her life was a mocking reminder
Of all those skeletons that would come out from behind her.
MwsR ❤
Mws R Writings 