Sep 7th
The essence of hurt rains on the depths of my being
I am worn beyond belief, yet I refuse to subdue
My emotional state holds mixed spices of
Guilt, worry, pain, rejection, uncertainty
Leaving a bitter taste on my tongue daily
I pull out my mask each day
So sweet they say, such a strong woman
Lacking to see the traces of unheald wounds and broken promises
If the thought crosses their minds, instead of presenting a shoulder of comfort its a slap of hate
Those slaps cause me to coat my heart
I hold my shield up daily refusing to let go of the key
I wear a mask of mystery
In all of her brilliance
You think you know me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem