A face in the mirror
And it stares back at me.
Strange, it appears,
Stranger, I seem.
And a life goes on,
A world exists behind those eyes,
Stories remain unspoken,
To be uttered by those lips.
Dreams weave through the soul
Desires skating through the veins,
Hope blooms
And maybe I'll know the person
Behind the face.
YOU ARE READING
Pieces Of Me
PoetryTo be rich in words, to let them accumulate and know that you'll never be wanting of anything else. It's a meagre attempt to highlight how much words mean.
