Leave a comment

April 3, 2019 by thewashingteenian

by Spencer Thomas, Staff Writer


My dearest friend the enigma

Cut open yet not dissected

Beautiful, broken, melodrama

So unsure of herself

But sure of death and sorrow

And concerned with others mental health

Tell her your woes she begs you to

Say how the mirror sees yourself

Whilst she’s the silence staring back at you

What are the thoughts of the reflection

Silent, judging, loud

And not approving of its own direction

Listen to her heart fall

It won’t make a sound

And she’ll deny it happening at all

Tell her your life story

Take her single word

Force her to accept your worry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: