Master of Charades -
Dried tears tinted black from dripping eyeliner she uses to disguise the secrets in her eyes
Sleeping, she hides from the pain of her thoughts
Her hair as messy as her heartstrings
Bottled up emotions displayed as a constant pressure pulsing in the depths behind her eyes
A master of charades
No one could possibly understand what's going on beneath her fake face
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA collection of any poetry I write. Not really my forte but I'm trying my hand.
