She writes words from her heart
On black inked bare pages
She writes of love that hurts
Her crumbling walls of defense
A bleak image she paints
Smeared page by page
Her heart compose lyrics
Of high and low notes
She writes of her thoughts
Truths concealed in dotted lines
Behind ghosts that never lived
Of Imagined people and places
The truth is not far from home
These words are her lyrics
Composed from a place of hurt
Poured out of an aching heart
These written words are her soul
An ink flowing in her every vein
Perspired through her every pore
Bleeding through her nails
She writes of a tale of deceit
A paint that taints the heart
She tells of the broken trust
Of dreams cut short
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem