Some wounds don't hurt,
Some wounds don't bleed;
Some wounds don't look,
As they would heal.
They just reside,
Somewhere deep inside;
Corroding your happiness,
Even though, out of sight.
Like shards of glass,
They cut and pierce;
Tearing apart the joy,
And peace, that was there.
Neither you, nor the world sees why,
The hollow that is created inside;
The pain is beyond comprehension,
What oozes out, is only a fraction.
Some wounds don't bleed;
Some wounds don't look,
As they would heal.
They just reside,
Somewhere deep inside;
Corroding your happiness,
Even though, out of sight.
Like shards of glass,
They cut and pierce;
Tearing apart the joy,
And peace, that was there.
Neither you, nor the world sees why,
The hollow that is created inside;
The pain is beyond comprehension,
What oozes out, is only a fraction.
No comments:
Post a Comment