Poetry Blogs (Stranger sadness everyday life)
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The Nail Bar
I was chatting to a lady,
In a seedy, smelly bar.
When she told me of her worries
That would best be in a jar.
It wasn't chat from alcohol,
acetone her vice;
Filed and painted nails,
Pretend to make her nice.
She described a bad life,
Caring for her dad,
Feeding him and coping,
She seemed so very sad.
She spoke as if I knew her,
Lonely, sad and...
Wednesday 25th January 2017 3:05 pm
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