the fear of
being unloved
goes unnoticed
through your endless lies
and continuous
pointing fingers.
YOU ARE READING
the ink of my heart | poetry
Poetryshe sits there, naked and exposed to the artist hiding away behind the blank canvas; tears stream down her face while goosebumps trace her skin for she is vulnerable against the world trying to paint her picture perfect to its eye. |unnamed...
47
the fear of
being unloved
goes unnoticed
through your endless lies
and continuous
pointing fingers.
