In disguise by Dawn Illsley
A smile painted on my face,
With lipstick too red for my taste.
Veiled hope in disguise,
A shroud worn to disguise.
Tag: Poetry
Poetry Time
Time by Dawn Illsley
My soul is bleeding,
Hoping beyond help.
Time is ticking,
Loud and clear.
It’s getting late,
Too late to care.
Poetry
Barely There
There’s a crowd inside my head,
It’s beyond capacity.
There’s no room for hope.
I’m empty of care.
I’m tired of smiling.
I’m barely there.
Poetry
The Hum by Dawn Illsley
I want to be in a place busy with the hum of voices.
Voices confabulating, words I can’t decipher.
Not here in the quiet.
My brain is free to wander,
Free to play the broken record of thoughts.
Ruminating in a stew of self doubt and words left unsaid
Poetry
Behind walls By Dawn Illsley
Rapacious eyes follow my lips.
Lips speaking words.
Words that torture and neglect.
Neglecting the subject,
torturing the truth.
The truth trapped behind walls grown thick with time.
Poetry
Timed out by Dawn Illsley
Humming a tune my lips don’t recognize,
I wander around the house.
My autopilot is broken,
I keep crashing.
Everyone notices,
But nobody says anything,
Afraid to point out the obvious.
I’m absent,
I’ve bowed out,
Thrown in the towel,
Given in, timed out.
Just like me
A work unfinished, in progress, a midnight moment.
Rainy Day
Rainy day
Our world is small,
Small enough for me to feel,
The exhausting guilt of things I can’t change.
So I keep it near and it breeds,
Growing in my soul.
I can feel it aching.
Rainy day aches,
When the wind changes,
And the damp sets in.
Dawn
She Wears Her Heart On Her Sleeve
She wears her heart on her sleeve.
Tells the time by the sun.
She doesn’t seem to care,
How long it will take,
To begin,
To end,
Or that it starts with a cliche,
And ends with a rhyme.
By Dawn
That one is for my dear Authors Ink writing group who has been meeting without me. But I hope they know I am there in spirit.
Tiny Hope
Silence promised but unkept,
Turns time into a liar,
And moments turn into hours.
Heads ache and spines weighted down
With exhaustion complain.
Tired of hollow words and empty smiles,
Faces reverse into neutral sadness.
The lines accumulated from time,
tell the truths we’d like to forget.
So we march on silently with a tiny hope that peace will come.
That Peace will finally come.
Dawn
Dawn's Chronicles 