It was the best of times
Yet, secretly, the worst of times.
Often misjudged for happiness
Even disguised as love.
Some never bothered,
To take their blinders off.
Some knew, and tried to play it off.
Yet, no one but herself, felt it all.
No one to pick her up after the fall.
Crashing like the waves of the ocean
Her spirit was dispersed,
Wishing, to be a balloon
And to float gently and swiftly away.
MwsR❤️💔
Mws R Writings 