Story

She was facinated with words,

Because they where art carried from mouth to mouth,

And from pages to mind,

Until a story forms,

Budding upon your lips,

To bloom a rose inside your mind,

And if you never tell,

The thorns will cut and hurt.

Because no pain is worse,

Then bearing a story that needs to be told,

Hidden beneath your skin,

And printed inside your mind.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s