Enduring: Woman of Afghanistan


As I lay here, left with my sorrows
I dry my tears, and wipe my weary face,
but all that I have bore
is inerasable.

The stone floor mocks me
and reflects the marks of failure
visible on my skin.

I can sense the life draining out of me
as if a part of me escapes as the blood,
gushing from my fingertips.

But when he returns, I must overcome
and appreciate his piddling mercy.
For the pain will only increase,
if I don't learn to endure.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem