You think she’s angry, but you don’t see,
The weight she carries silently.
It’s not the rage that fills her eyes,
But tiredness in a thin disguise.
She’s not furious, but worn and torn,
From dreams abandoned, hopes forlorn.
She’s tired, she’s weary, she’s feeling lost,
Paying life’s relentless cost.
She’s sinking deep in a sea of doubt,
Crying softly, without a shout.
Frustration builds, but not from hate
It’s the closed doors, the heavyweight.
She promised much, her dreams were bright,
But now she battles every night.
She wants to give, to rise, to shine,
But life’s harsh currents pull the line.
So when you see her weary stare,
Know it’s not anger, but despair.
She’s fighting hard to find her way,
I’m hoping tomorrow’s a kinder day.
Great poetess you are! This poem flows smoothly.
Thanks though it’s doesn’t always turn out that way
Powerfully penned, Lizz. Excellent write with tight rhymes and a great flow my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks 😊 I like the rhyme so try to add it