I sit, my back against the wall. Tears trickling down my cheeks.
Then I wash off my face and stand tall, which means that I am weak.
Alone in the bathroom stall, I couldn't control my cries.
On the inside I feel so very small, and the smiles I wear are lies.
Author's Note:
Do you ever cry in the bathroom, then walk out and go back to your day? That's a rare occurrence for me, but when it happens—It is awful.
-I. Quill
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Rain Clouds
PoetrySimple poems, each with a story just behind them. ••• This book will be updated whenever I write a new poem worth posting. I draw inspiration either from my own complicated emotions, or sometimes even stories I've created in my mind. I suppose only...
