| The Lonely Child |
There she sits, the lonely child,
All muddled up and confused within her own lies.
Vulnerable to her inner demons,
The shadows, towering nobly, that thrive to overpower
(For they will be at peace when there’s no light)
And soon the manacles will melt into scorching metal,
Painful outside; peaceful inside.
(But freedom is bliss, right?)
The little shield, the restraint; it’s still there,
(Alas...)
Dissolving gradually as the cocoon tightens and the tendrils burn her flesh,
Until it’s a speck so tiny... so tiny...
(Heavens, sweet irony)
That infinitesimal light flickers, unfed,
And good and evil clasp together, blending into something blinding,
(Rage? No, cruelty... no, wait, indifference...?)
Beware, the light will die soon.
(And the shadows will prevail)
And oh, behold, that girl in the mirror!
She’s beautiful, though she’s anything but,
The diluting eyes of a predator,
Friendly to entice, yet a corporeal fury filtering through,
And the rugged breathing that says it all,
(In – out – pause – rewind – fast forward)
Something akin to murder – or is it vengeance? – in her eyes...?
—The mirror breaks into a glinting mess!
Shimmering on the floor in all its vacant glory,
and with the last of all restraint, light and all good inside;
the child’s gone, gone, gone.
For she’s just tasted absolute power—
And that’s enough to make a woman go mad. |
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| Plastic |
Like motes of sunshine,
her hair catches fire,
s.h.i.n.e.s.
Her smile saccharine sweet,
while you kind of stare,
f.r.e.e.z.e.s.
Crushed ice, chopped depths;
her eyes, glistening and reflecting; dead,
s.l.i.p.
Lips like hovering fireflies,
pale and flowery, disconcerting,
t.w.i.s.t.
Clotted cream, petal smooth,
shiny, pale – frozen, her skin
c.r.a.w.l.s.
Caterpillars, ladybugs, and fireflies,
you strangle
the
wall
clock
And you see in her,
her, her, her, her—
y.o.u.r.s.e.l.f.
reeking, rotting,
dead. |
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| A Drop of White |
A Drop of White
And when she breathes,
her breath hangs
in the air; like mist,
pale and silvery,
and barely there
yet eternal;
fades
(like time)
Lilies all around her,
beautiful and mourning,
in sync; a melody,
violins, perhaps?
or the sounds of axes?
chilling and sudden
and cold
like snow;
burn
(like memories)
A breeze
A woodpecker
A cloud
A leaf
A peanut
A swish;
she is happy, warm.
(like winter) |
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posted by Midnightazia at 
