cowardly lion
Learn more about other poetry terms
A stream of red lies on the ground,
with the sound of my heart pound, pound, pounding.
I want you to hear it, but shards are in your ears,
the scratching against the walls sound like your worst fears.
Others think I'm strong.
Others think I'm happy all year long.
The truth is hard to spill
As it is what keeps me with good will.
Sometimes I wonder if I can trust a person
