Poetry

Everyone cry's throughout their life,
Weather its a skinned knee,
Or a broken heart.
Even some of us hide the tears.

As a little kid its so much easier,
With the skinned knee's.
But when its time to grow up,
We end up with broken hearts.

The pain from a cut is so much better,
Then a shattered heart because,
No matter how hard we want it,
It never seems to go away.

What hurts the most is knowing,
That the person we saw our future with,
And gave them our fragile hearts,
We will never be able to redo our wrong's.

The emotions and tears we hide,
Will stay right there behind the wall.
Until one day it will break,
And the angel of death is waiting.

With the diamond like tears,
Falling down her pale white cheeks,
The knife in her slim fingered hand,
And an unfinished poem left in her pocket.