You walk through life with your head held high,
Viewing the world with an untamed eye.
And though you look like your spirits fly,
Inside you wish only to curl up and die.
People are frightened by what they don’t understand
And your sorrow to them is a foreign land.
No one is there to reach out a hand.
Is a listening ear too big a demand?
As red drops leak from a worn, pained heart,
Strong body and weak soul depart.
There’s no one to whom you can impart.
Your composure is your finest art.
You water black roses with crying eyes.
Doesn’t anyone try to see through your disguise?
It’s not your fault, for you truly despise
Your dying world; it’s drowning in lies.
So dear, go on living in your world of grey.
Focus on your future and don’t look away.
Look to the skies, call to God, and pray
That maybe your life will be better one day.
~This poem was actually written by one of my best friends, Megan. I don’t own any of this poem. It’s Megan’s creation, so let’s keep it that way.~
