The Restless Woman.
In the eyes of a restless woman,feel everything turning to dust,
no heart but a stone of rust.
Drinking and taking cocaine,
Talking more and more about her pain,
she is weak but still strong,
she still cries when she's alone.
No power left to use.
Feeling more and more abused,
she cuts to be mean, not to be seen.
She is more than she shows.
She's more than any one knows.
Why is she left alone?
Poetry by Dirty-pretty-things
Read 764 times
Written on 2007-02-18 at 00:48
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