Her tea sits there cold on the table,
her mind is no longer still or stable.
The past has confused her thoughts,
too many people took their shots.
Weakened she's slowly loosing her fight,
her curtains closed to hide her site.
Once alive with life and glee,
a broken woman is what I now see.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 29th, 2026 04:28
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
This is a poetic portrait painted in words of rhyme. Nicely done
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