This Always Happens At Midnight
Desperation is within my grips
i slowly let it sink in
do you hear my stifled cry
into the midnight hour?
do you feel my dead heart beat make a sound?
listen....
Quietly dear
would you like to know what i went through?
would you even care?
Will you have sympathy for the weak and torn?
My eyes are blurred bby visions of you.
poem by Alyssa Bradford
Added by Poetry Lover
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