Hurt

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  • Loss

    Hurt

    tears were rolling down her cheek
    the hurt inside
    the pain so deep
    The loss
    That endless torment
    could not be broken
    could not be fixed
    so there she lay
    Torn.
    Confused.
    Lost.
    done with it all
    she held on to her last breath
    Finally
    It's done.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    valechka’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    So this is how it feels like 0
    Trying to let it go 1
    All i ever wanted 0
    Hurt 0
    Feelings 0