deepundergroundpoetry.com
Simple tragedies from a broken heart
The windows shadder and The moon light wanders in. Trying to find a home, better off alone.
A little girl sits crying in her rocking chair. Speaking softly but no one here's a sound.
They say she's lost. Maybe she is. They say she's gone mad. That might be true.
But all she really is is broken, but no one try's to fix her.
Simple tradgities are never as they seem.
Mainly because that little girl was me.
A little girl sits crying in her rocking chair. Speaking softly but no one here's a sound.
They say she's lost. Maybe she is. They say she's gone mad. That might be true.
But all she really is is broken, but no one try's to fix her.
Simple tradgities are never as they seem.
Mainly because that little girl was me.
Published 19th Feb 2013
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