People envy her smiles
they thought she's happy
but behind those pretty eyes
hide an incurable malady.
In every dose of laughter
is a bucket full of tears
Evertime she uttered "I'm okay"
the pain stung deeper.
Outside she appears healthy
but inside she's a bit weary
It must be her destiny
to live life tragically.
YOU ARE READING
DEAR SELF,
Poetry"The love that you are searching from someone else, will and must always start with yourself." (A collection of poem and prose about self-love, moving forward, and embracing one's imperfections) -ResNullius-
