Nothing to Wear

Heather Smith
Jul 2
1 min read

You ask if I want to come outside to play.

As I look down at my dress of melancholy grey.

The thought of disappointing brings swells of tears to my eyes.

Though I've simply run out of transparent lies.

My glass facade of happiness is shattered on the ground.

I'm too weak to play the part of a boisterous clown.

Perhaps in this season it is best to be honest.

To hold onto hope when the darkness is strongest.

By: Heather Alaine Smith

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Nothing to Wear

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