Not much is needed
Not a word spoken
For looking in her eyes
You could see the pain.
She wore her head high
Her smile brighter
Wearing the bruises like the warrior she is
But those eyes
The grey tones of light blue
Like an ocean dried up.
She was half of the girl she used to be,
Now the woman she was supposed to be.
Be wary of her vixen smile
For her eyes give all away
You might be a saint
But she is a snake.
YOU ARE READING
Days of life
PoetryI'm basically going to be writing a bunch of poems about whatever. Some may be better than the others and have more emotion.
