PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Thirty years old,

She pretends to be real;

But her blood runs cold,

And she's forgotten how to feel.



Scared tears drain,

From her bloodshot eyes;

And they spill like rain,

Every time she tries.



She needs to be stronger,

She wants to be beautiful;

She needs to be better,

She wants to be able.



The echoes in his voice,

Are far from a lullaby;

The wrinkles in his clothes,

Give strength to what they signify.



A whisper turns to screaming,

And she covers her ears in fear;

Wine ripples in his glass,

But greedy lips make it disapear.



Every blow to her body,

Makes her more numb to life;

She has learned to be invisible,

The perfect, respecting wife.



They say that tears stain,

They say that tears streak;

But these tears bruised and scarred,

Her pain makes her unique.



She's never met a tiger,

That didn't bite deep;

So she puts on her thick skin,

But cowers like a sheep.



She covers her eyes,

Maybe then she won't see;

The cliff ahead,

She'll jump when she's ready.