Long black hair
Thick and smooth
Ravens wings
Clear pale skin
Deprived of sun
Small nose
Big black eyes
Framed by long lashes
Little bubble
Of a ruby mouth
Those lips are tight
Taut with worry
The white forehead
Crinkled in concentration
There's not a hint of happiness
Not a bit of joy
Purely the death of hope
And the crying heart within
Below her face
There is another though
She is happy
She is perfect
Drawn on lined paper
She's the only thing she has
YOU ARE READING
Different
PoetryDepression is the most lovely and most horrible friend. You know she'll do all she can to stay, but while she's around you'll always feel different. My second poetry book.
