A Sad Poem About Memories Of Past. Growing Up With Disfunction .

she owns the kind of beauty that could break easily
with just a slash of the tongue you could render her mute
her skin is made of eggshells and her eyes are pools
if you thing you could memorize her,
you are wrong, go back to school ;
She changes with every turn of the hourglass
she bears it all, keeps it all, remembers all and sings,
only to the stars at night as she lies there, and cries.
© Mystic Rose