The Misunderstood
Amid a life of imperative breathing
There lived a girl, her heart was bleeding.
She cared not much for earthly things
Though she yearned relief, from which fulfillment brings.
Such loneliness her soul does feel,
Her heart was crying, no comfort could heal.
She's losing faith at a rapid rate,
For too long she's searched and now she waits.
"If you are out there, hear my cry,
Feel my spirit calling, before I lay down to die."
Copyright © Natasha Prins | Year Posted 2016
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