She often has that look
Sharp but blunt, broken but stitched together
Eyes that often tell stories
Of nights, of wet pillows and muffled sobs
With a feeling, that everything slips
Right between her fingers
An ache spreading beyond her heart
Words failing to express what the lips murmur
Putting on her kajal and mascara
Hiding the dark circles around the light blue eyes
Mindful of the scars
On her mind and her soul..
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