The girl with no name,
Whose name means nothing.
Sick with sadness,
Lashing out with shame.
A speck of sand on an infinite dune.
Outshone by the new moon.
Heart of stone, broken easily.
Heart of glass, cracked so breezily.
Forgotten so readily,
Left behind steadily.
The creep,
That still knows my birthday.
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Author:
siranswerer (
Offline) - Published: July 7th, 2022 12:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 41
- Users favorite of this poem: lalalaEulalie
Offline)
Comments1
Wow. This one hits home. ...If the men I have loved could write poetry. 🤣 I laugh only because it's so relatable. It is quite eloquently stated. 💎 💎 💎
Maybe. If the men you have loved wrote poetry. You wouldn't have loved them.
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