The silence yells that you've died
all the tears I'm dying to hide
working so hard to paint over your memory
swallow them down to the pit of my belly
they fester and rot, I'm feeling so empty
Weak and so heavy my eyes they will fall
washing my smile, I must build a wall
paint it with colors that shine like the sun
plant little flowers at the foot of my run
lift my head high and work on my soul
live day by day until heaven I go.
©Elizabeth Zsamboki
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