You’ll find her here alone, you’ll find her curled bruises shown. You’ll find that she is broken, words left unspoken, tears like crystal shards.
You’ll find that she is insecure and fragile, sometimes hard to handle. You’ll find that she is bittersweet, fallen, ungraceful on her feet.
You’ll find that her wings are torn, the look that’s in her eyes forlorn. You’ll find that her small voice cracks and when words escape the feelings black.
You’ll find her more and more like a battered shore, where rocks are pounded by the sea. You’ll find that the destruction is a part of me.
You’ll find the pain behind her smile, you’ll see the fear and all her trials. You’ll see I swear the wear and tear upon her heart and soul, but if you choose to love her still you’ll see that love is more surreal.
You’ll see that behind her broken smile a heart that can endure loves wretched miles. You’ll see a sun in the darkest of skies, you’ll see mad desire where bloody pain lies.
You’ll see all that’s meant to be seen, you’ll see her through and through. You will see all there is to see, reflected back in you.
I just love writing, its therapy for me. I love reading other poems, getting inspired, feeling the pain or happiness that lie within the paragraphs or lines. I work in the medical field where I see decline in health everyday, death, and depression, its easy to get lost in the grim reality of it all. But writing is a way for me to escape, reading is a way for me to escape, So here I am. :)
I went into the jungle And what did I see? Bodies of soldiers, ours and theirs. I looked from the jungle And what did I see? Families of soldiers, ours and theirs. Standing at an airport Mom and dad waiting,
Ail, What we did to earth? Before The births, we took the lives, Ceasing the smiles, we ruined the hopes. deny the past, lets demand peace. Erase the scars of our wicked strokes. Find the light hidden inside. Gold dust
In three forms Two thirds; Still, Not to drink a drop, or two pots for bath. One-third in Coco cola bottle, One-third is in the Cleavage water, Then, we are throwing stones at the well, Waiting for the crow bath;
When life hits, it doesn’t pull its punches; It hits harder than you would think but is not as bad as you would perceive. When you are withdrawn from its reach it will eventually catch up, and like an angry