The rain dropped,
her fists clenched.
She cursed the ground,
called Fate a fiend.
Eyes gone red,
screams unheard.
She cursed the ground,
called you a wimp.
Your silence cut deep;
her pain she tried to keep.
She remained tight-lipped,
yet inside she wailed and wept.
How dare you throw away
what others struggled to keep?
The rain had stopped,
now drenched in black,
she asked the ground
why you did such selfish act.
******
YOU ARE READING
Spilled Ink
PoetryA piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.
