When a veiled face hides a mind that’s too much strained,
Can such a heart hold in it a joy pure?
The tongue is locked, it’s not free to speak.
The eyes are wet and cry.
Who will soothe them?
Pleasure? No.
Pain.
* Written in a descending word count format per line as follows: 11, 10, 9, 6, 4, 2,1.
* Awarded second prize in Pond Poetry contest, round 4 "Invalid Item" , organised by Kaya.
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