Growing Old

What kind of secrets do you keep
Buried far beneath the deep
Underneath the scars
painted on your skin?

Can you count the ways,
the burned and soured days
that others left their hurt
for everyone to see?

The whispers in your head,
the monsters underneath your bed
have grown weary of this game
yet you play it anyway

How much time can go by
How many tears can you cry
before the ground of your heart
shrivels up dry

Wrinkles decorate your skin
but you never let anyone in
Now you are old
and have grown frail

But still you can’t forget
how much life you regret
and everything you
could have left behind

Behind your sad green eyes
are the lies you despise
of the injuries
you never left behind.



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She Writes Chaos

Polyamorous girl, homeschool mom, poetry writer. Here are my thoughts, judge them as you will.