One Of A Kind |
| by Mrs. Poetry |
These tears I cry, are from a young heart and soul,
who needs to find a one of a kind.
That kind that I seek is not shallow nor meek,
but of will and strong power that will fight every hour.
Till roses grow bleak and no more words are there to speak,
I sit in this solemn, dark room so my body can consume,
some type of clarity; to keep me from despair,
and this depression I behold from this derriere.
I constantly fight, till my fist reek of blood,
and my life becomes scarred, like the love upon my heart.
Sincerely yours, this will truly be.
The end of the world, the end of me.
Because these tears I cry are from a young heart and soul,
who desperately needs to find a one of a kind.
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