Screams echo
yet aren't heard
Weary eyes
and dark bags surrounding them.
Tired of this
this suffering,
it doesn't end.
Sleep...
It doesn't exist
when you're busy
sitting
in feeble position
In the corner of your room.
Cries
And screams
Aren't heard.
YOU ARE READING
Margot's poems...
PoetryUm, I write poems. Haha. I don't know if they are all that good, but I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to share some of them with other writers or readers out there. So here it is...
