When
She was
Whispering softly,
Almost like the
Murmuring of a tree
Soft, gentle, words were
All I could hear,
yet, I was Smelling
A very general story,
A polished, fake smile
When will we be able to break free?
I do not know and I do not want to know
A closed door does not mean anything
In an alternate way
We still try to imagine things , to feed our soul
And the story keeps on counting the addition of pages
I was listening, I was trying to be a gentle girl
As I used to be, and all I can remember now,
That I need to learn to read between those lines
For tracks of hidden tears,
And
Overlooked smiles.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
