She walks
with her head
bent down
Her eyes fixed,
on the ground
beneath her feet
Her steps
slow and calculative
The sun smiling at her
Drenched in sweat she is
They said she's so egoistic
Little did they know she is
Blind.
YOU ARE READING
WORDS OF THE INNOCENT
PoetryHere are some collections of my inner voice, Bottled and buried deep down in the depth of my heart, Scribbled down on a piece of paper. . . . She sighs,and look through the window, Waiting for the sun to shine, So she could hide in the world of book...
