ෆ::
Let me tell you a story,
Of the girl who is now me.
How she was born,
And how she grew to be torn.
She is cheerful and free,
Of the world she should be.
Prim and proper,
Her feelings she covers.
Left with questions when her mom cried.
Her world turned black and all the flowers died.
She grew up, starting to unfold the world.
Realizing it's not a fantasy as she's told.
She can't fix her family,
And so can't she fix herself.
Can't she live happily?
That's why she needed help.
And yes it is me,
The girl in this poetry.
I don't need your sympathy,
I'm just telling you my untold story.
::
YOU ARE READING
HER BOOK OF POETRIES
PoetryA compilation of poems that I wrote throughout the days.
