Her Time Poem by Heather Rhoden
Her Time
Slicing her wrists
To see the lines turn and twist.
Changed to a smile from a frown
As the blood drips down.
For years to be cast out,
For no one to hear her shout
With all their stares
And no one seemed to care,
Feeling their own selfish fear,
Not caring about her tears.
No goals were to be reached
As turned silent were her screams.
Escaped were her sighs
When it was her time to fly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 7:07:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
