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Rated: E · Poetry · Teen · #1887569
She's the person living within me.
She got her head down again.
Down, down, down to the earth.
Pale skin and a skinny neck.
Oh, poor little thing.

She's trying to drown her sorrow into work.
She's trying, really trying.
But there's not much work is left.
Not much work to do.

So now she's crying, crying, crying.
And she's screaming, screaming screming.
And then she's singing. Just keep on singing.
And painting.

And she's running, running, running.
To the station in the city.
She's gonna catch a train to take her home.
Uh, how i wish she make it there.

And she's keep waiting, waiting, waiting.
Waiting for a while now.
But there's nothing.
Nothing to take her home. Not a single train.

And she drags her bag.
Heavy heartedly along the pavement.
Dragging, dragging, dragging.
Hope someone pull over and says, "Hope on! I'll take you home".

But no. No. No!
No one saving her.
But no. No. No!
No one remember about her

And she's arrive.
At the place she stay. For a second time.
She tried to hold her tears but some of them got away.
And fall to her hand.

She walks up to her room.
Counting every step she made.
Counting, counting, counting.
Keep counting until she lost her thought.

Again, She's trying to drown her sorrow into work.
She's trying. Really trying.
But there's not much work is left.
Not much work to do.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1887569-Mary