A poem by Helen Success
Here is something I wrote a while back…
Her life is like a house
built too fast and unstable,
she’s searching for that infamous light
at the end of the tunnel,
in the darkness she cries
and then dries those frequent tears and wonders why
her life is like this, built on an unsteady foundation,
that day after day was filled with endless conversation
but only few seemed to carry any validation.
So the time she spends alone, wondering where her life is going to go,
she does all that she knows…
For the day she wakes up carefree.
No worries, no fear, no baggage,
But that day never comes
and if it did would she know,
even live to tell the story of the pain she doesn’t show.
Her life is like a house, but the windows are broken,
but still trapped inside are words unspoken,
of her trials and her tests,
that have been failed and produced this mess…
she knows as life.