deepundergroundpoetry.com

She

She sits, drowning in over contemplation and despair.

Dreading yet another second that will tick to a minute, which will pass into an hour which will drag into a day.

Knowing she will suffer the performance of a bitter sweet lie painted on her face above her chin and under her nose.

So long as you look you'll see it there - reflections of over contemplation and despair.
Written by DeathnoteWhovian
Published
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