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Murmurs Beneath the Bough
In the garden of words where intentions bloom,
Lies a tale of secrets hidden in the gloom.
Do people ponder before they speak,
Or utter words that pierce the meek?
"I too am a human," whispers the heart,
With feelings deep, a soul apart.
Hidden behind a mask of laughter and jest,
Lies a heart that's heavy, yearning for rest.
Seen as frivolous, lacking in worth,
Yet wounds of the heart cut deep beneath Earth.
Hidden agony, a silent inner storm,
Whispers of pain, where hearts mourn
Funny and pointless, they may see,
But the wounds run deep, invisibly.
Hurt and pain, shielded from view,
Yet lingering within, a silent clue.
© Mr JASPER
Lies a tale of secrets hidden in the gloom.
Do people ponder before they speak,
Or utter words that pierce the meek?
"I too am a human," whispers the heart,
With feelings deep, a soul apart.
Hidden behind a mask of laughter and jest,
Lies a heart that's heavy, yearning for rest.
Seen as frivolous, lacking in worth,
Yet wounds of the heart cut deep beneath Earth.
Hidden agony, a silent inner storm,
Whispers of pain, where hearts mourn
Funny and pointless, they may see,
But the wounds run deep, invisibly.
Hurt and pain, shielded from view,
Yet lingering within, a silent clue.
© Mr JASPER
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