Fancy

When life doesn't seem fair.

No words to speak,

legs are weak.

The rhyme's no game

it's just the same.

Grey as night

and light as day

the searing, slicing, agonizing pain.

Hope, seems like a commodity;

that only the rich can ask for.

Sometimes words don't work

and we're left grasping,

because imperfect is this world

and It isn't getting fancy.

Reviews

[TionneNicole]

Your a really good writer